


The Offer

by slickeechick



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Play, Age Play Little Dean Winchester, Angst, Consensual, Cuddling & Snuggling, Daddy Castiel, Diapers, Embarrassment, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Relationships, Infantilism, M/M, Non-Sexual Age Play
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2018-10-07 10:01:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 25,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10357869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slickeechick/pseuds/slickeechick
Summary: Dean needs the money, but exactly what it is this man -Castiel- wants from him is not exactly in line with anything he's ever done before.Then again, it is only one night. He can do anything for just one night, then walk away with a pocket full of cash in the morning.Right?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was initially in response to a prompt left on SPN-kink meme, but as I've veered away more than a little from that, I've deleted the actual prompt.
> 
> I've never written anything like this, not in this fandom, genre or kink, but I'm hoping you'll enjoy it, nevertheless.
> 
> If you're at all unsure whether this is your cuppa or not, please watch the tags and read whatever notes I add as this unfolds (which it is doing, albeit slowly).
> 
> New 9/14/18: hopefully back to posting this until it's completed. Many thanks to any of you still sticking with me for this long! Totally appreciated, you have no idea! Thank you, thank you!

*******

It was the absolute last scenario Dean would have ever imagined.  
The guy was weird, clearly. Kinky weird, not that kink bothered him that much before, but then, he’d never run across anything quite like this.

“So, you want me to . . .“

“Be my baby.”

Said so matter of fact, like the guy could give two shits about anyone overhearing, even as they sat surrounded by people.

He was a good looking guy, Dean would have to admit. Better than most of the men that approached him for sex on occasion. Tall, about his own height. A few years older than he was. Thirty maybe. Decent build from what he could tell under what looked to be pretty damn expensive clothes. Dark hair and beautiful skin, not that skin was something Dean ever really thought about or noticed, but this guy’s face was downright striking. Open and friendly.

It was the guy’s eyes, though, if he thought about what it was that drew him in and held him there once the guy approached him. Eyes like that, so goddamn blue. Yeah, sucked him right in from the word go.

Well, those eyes…and the money the dude was offering.

Now, though, he was having doubts. Major doubts. Baby. What the hell?

“Yeah,” he said, stretching a bit through his shoulders and not exactly meeting the guy’s eyes…and what the fuck, anyway, that the guy -Castiel (and what kind of name was that)- kept staring at him like he wanted to see inside his brain. Dude had an intense stare. “I don’t think…”

“You don’t really need to think. I mean the point is really that I would do all that for you,” Castiel said, interrupting, but then at least had the decency to back off a bit. Like suddenly realizing he was coming across a little strong. “I mean... What I mean is, I would care for you. You wouldn’t have to really do anything but…let me.”

“Let you.” Like that didn’t sound weird right there. Like Dean ever really gave up control of himself to anybody, ever. “Dude, I don’t know. I’m hearing this all, you saying you want to take care of a kid for the night -me, basically- but I gotta tell you… I mean, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but, I’m a man, not a…not a child.”

Never mind the thought of sex in all of this, not that Castiel had brought any of that up, but still. Seriously, was the guy a pedophile? 

“I’m not a pedophile, you know.”

Okay, just the idea that this Castiel dude could read his mind that way.

“I’m not a mind reader, either.”

What the hell!

Castiel was staring at him again and that was more than just a little bit unsettling. He had to get out from under those eyes.

“I could see it all over your face.”

Dean instinctively brushed fingers against his lips, not exactly understanding, then realized a split second later that Cas meant he had been reading his expression. The pedophile thing. He felt bad, like judging the weird dude for his weird request was wrong, even though, come on. Seriously.

“Sorry, Mr… uh, Castiel. I just, I’ve never heard of this kind of… It’s a weird request, you gotta admit. What you want me to do, I mean.”

Castiel exhaled long enough and loud enough Dean couldn’t help but hear. Exasperated, clearly. 

“Whatever you’re presuming from my request, it’s not what you think. First, you’re deciding that I want…that I’m…“ Castiel stopped talking abruptly, shook his head and looked like he was trying to dive into the depths of his cappuccino. He didn’t continue with whatever he was going to say, and they both sat there inside a bubble of weighted silence until Dean couldn’t take it anymore.

Never was good at keeping his mouth shut.

Dean wasn’t sure he wanted to hear any more of this guy’s plans, but the guy looked sad or, not sad so much as dejected. Disappointed, and fuck it. He could at least give the guy another chance to explain. “Okay. Why don’t you tell me what it is I’m not assuming from your offer. “

Those blue eyes again. It wasn’t easy to keep looking at them, but Castiel managed to have locked onto his own green ones and didn’t seem to want to let go. The man didn’t really even blink, either, that Dean could tell, which was kind of strange, more than awkward and fuckity-fuck. Dean wanted to kick himself. He did not need to get wrapped up in somebody else’s weird shit.

Castiel leaned back in his chair and Dean was grateful for that intense look to finally be broken. The man was dressed in a dark suit and open collar shirt. Some shade of blue that actually seemed to match his eye color perfectly. Looked very expensive. Looked like money. A lot of money.

Which was what this was all about in the end, really. Right?

Dean needed it. Money. His brother’s tuition would be coming up again, and what Castiel was offering for this one night was more money than Dean’d made in months from hustling pool. Or even from his few clients, as he liked to think of them. Hooking had never been his career of choice, ever, and he didn’t do it often, but above any other work it paid the most when he decided to venture down that occasional road.

“Okay,” he started, still not sure about heading down this path with this man, even for clarification. But money was money, and he was sorely in need. He could at least listen to Castiel’s explanation and figure out just what he’d have to do -if- he agreed, which right now, was looking doubtful.

Still, one night could help so much toward Sam’s college bills. Even with the amazing scholarship the kid got, there was always money to have to send.

He rolled his hand to get the guy to continue on about his offer.

Casitel looked at him then nodded, the fingers of both hands coming to rest on the table in front of him. Dean got the impression he was trying to appear honest and harmless. Above board.

The weird thing was, Dean was sensing the guy was just that.

“I’m not looking to do doing anything with children. Not innocently or otherwise. Ever.”

“But you just said you wanted me to be…”

“Yes. I did.” Castiel interrupted, and sat back. “May I ask how old you are, Derek?”

Derek was any age anyone wanted him to be, Dean thought. Derek was his ‘do anything - do anyone’ persona when he was running a hook. “I’m 19.”

The look Castiel sent him, tilted head and raised eyebrows. Caught.

“Okay, fine. I’m not 19. I’m 25, almost 26.”

Castiel was nodding. “I figured somewhere in your early twenties. Just wanted to make sure. Do you always lie to your clients?”

“Comes with the territory, I guess. You wanting a kid and all, I just thought maybe you’d like to hear I was younger than I am, or something.”

Fuck it, Castiel had a sweet-ass smile even when it was a frown.

“No offense, Derek, but while you do look young, you don’t look that young. and I told you I don’t want a child.” He seemed to be studying him, which definitely made Dean a bit nervous. “Also, I despise liars. I’d appreciate you not doing it again.”

“Okay, sorry.” Dean swallowed the last of his coffee, trying to get a read on this guy who seemed so straight-laced and well spoken. And rich. “So then, back to the details of your weird-ass feti-…“ He stopped talking at the rise of Castiel’s long finger.

“Okay. I agree it may be a fetish of sorts, but it’s really not just that…”

“More coffee?”

The waitress’s voice broke like shattered glass over their heads. It was almost as if Dean had forgotten where they were, which was crazy, really, as this coffee shop was teeming with customers. Not a vacant chair to be had.

‘Somewhere public they could converse’, Castiel had said to him after approaching him earlier about a possible ‘job’ offer. 

Dean hadn’t been at all surprised about being propositioned. He definitely emitted that kind of vibe right off the bat. Had for years. Never a ‘streetwalking hooker’, but if someone asked (and he’d been asked more than his fair share, even when not looking for that kind of work) he’d consider it from time to time, depending on the need for money for Sam. He’d do anything to help his kid brother.

The only surprise this time was that the guy in the suit and trench coat – Castiel – had escorted him to a plush coffee shop (where paying upward of five dollars for a cup of joe wasn’t unheard of) instead of down to the seedy pay-by-the-hour motel with the half burned out neon sign. Then again, Castiel didn't look like the seedy motel type.

Now, the waitress tilted her head, coffee pot armed with his chosen house blend, and so Dean nodded and both he and Castiel fell silent as they watched her pour a refill into his cup. He added several spoonfuls of sugar to top it off, then inhaled the rich aroma as he waited for Castiel to continue.

“Okay, Derek, yes. It’s a…thing…I have, yet never have acted upon. I know what it is for me. But what it isn’t is-…” He shifted, looking somewhat uncomfortable which made Dean want to laugh. Not his idea to talk about this in the middle of uppercrust coffee shop society. “It isn’t and has never been about anything perverse.”

“You mean perverted.”

“I mean…it’s actually fairly innocuous.”

“So why don’t you explain, then. Cause I gotta tell you, dude, from where I’m sitting it’s definitely looking like you want to do the nasty with a ba-…”

“Stop. That is not at all what I’m looking to do. And furthermore, I haven’t yet decided the details of this proposition to actually include sexual activity.“

Okay, that threw Dean for a loop.

Castiel had sat back, frustration clearly evident to Dean in the way he held himself so stiff. He seemed to close down a degree or two. “Trust me, my offer has absolutely nothing to do with wanting to do anything with a child whatsoever. That’s precisely why I inquired about your age.”

“Oh, really? Think it’s pretty obvious I’m not even close to being a little kid that you would want to know how young I am, much less young enough to …”

“Exactly.” Castiel lowered his voice to a deep gravel that Dean could imagine garnered a shitload of respect in many a circle.

“I don’t want an actual child, Derek. I am not interested in anything but a caretaker aspect, at least not initially. Think of it as an evening of role play, if you will. I’m the care-er, and you would be the care-ee.”

“Role play.”

“To a degree.”

“It’s weird.”

Castiel nodded. “I realize this isn’t perhaps the norm of your usual paid evening activities, shall we say, but…”

“Dude,” Dean began, cutting him off and not just a small measure of indignation hitting him with the assumption that he even had usual activities. He may be approached at times, but it wasn’t like he was a turned out prostitute on a nightly basis. “I may have a paid evening activity or two now and then, on my time and my choice only, but it’s not like I have my own corner out there, you know.”

Castiel looked confused.

“I mean, Castiel, this isn’t something I do all the time. I’m not a fucking ‘regular’ boy, if you get that.”

There was that smile again. Between Castiel’s eyes and smile, Dean was having a hard time not just blindly agreeing to all of this, even with his doubts and reservations of falling into the weirdness of whatever it was, exactly, that this guy wanted from him.

And just as that thought rolled through his head, didn’t Castiel suddenly push his chair away and stand. Dean was starting to question if he truly wasn’t an actual mind-reader after all.

“I think perhaps, Derek, I’ve taken too much of your time. This is clearly not going to work out, I can see that.” Castiel shrugged into this trench coat, pulling out his wallet a second later. He dropped a twenty on the table. “For the check and the waitress.” Followed this with a fifty. “And for your time.” With that, he stood there for a long beat, then said, “It was nice meeting you, regrets aside. Forgive my presumptuousness.”

They held eyes for a second, then Dean watched as Castiel turned to leave. Leave like walk out the door. Before he knew it, his mouth was acting before his brain was even registering that this was really, probably, positively not a good idea. Not at all, not even one little bit good. 

“Dean.”

“I’m sorry?” Castiel had turned around, eyebrows arched and clearly not understanding.

“My name isn’t Derek. It’s…Dean.” Even as the words came out of his mouth, Dean couldn’t figure out what he was doing. It wasn’t a good idea. He didn’t do other people’s kink.

“Dean.”

Dean nodded, and good lord, the way that man said his name. All deep and growly and it sent a vibration straight through his dick and he couldn’t begin to decipher just what was going on in his head to make him blurt out his real name to this complete kinky stranger. He never told would-be clients his name, much less ones that wanted something this weird from him.

Still couldn’t figure out Castiel saying he wasn’t sure about the sex part, that wasn’t something he ever heard when agreeing to a ‘job’.

“Okay, well,” Castiel was saying with a nod, “it was good, then, to meet you. Dean.” And again, he began to move toward the door.

“Wait,” and just shut the fuck up, Dean, his head was screaming. Just shut the fuck up right now. “I think, maybe I…”

This caught Castiel’s attention, and the man turned back, standing with one arm rested on the back of his chair. “You think, maybe you?”

God, Dean felt itchy and shaky. There was sweat dripping down his back. His skin was prickly. He never felt this nervous, even when taking on a 250 pound biker’s offer for a long and deep ride. 

But…what Castiel was asking couldn’t be that bad, right? It was just a little weird. Different. That was all. Dean could do weird. For the money Castiel was offering, Dean could do a lot weird. Could do anything.

“I think, maybe, I’d like to take you up on it.”

“It.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, fingers busy shredding a napkin into a bazillion pieces. “What you said. Your offer to be my…” He looked around, practically whispering the last because, shit yes, it was still fucking weird.

“Daddy,” Castiel said, finishing for him.

Dean let go a half-hearted smile, not really feeling it and not at all sure that word was working for him what with the way it made him feel a bit ill, but fuck yes, that money for one night could help a shit-ton with tuition... and Castiel was easy on the eyes for an evening for sure, and so he nodded again. Agreeing.

“My daddy.”

=^..^=

To be continued...


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is loosely based on the prompt I have noted on chapter one...
> 
> I've added new tabs, including a relationship between Dean and Cas, but do note this will happen outside the age-play. Hang in there, you'll see (if you're following at all)
> 
> I'll try and update every couple of days, but as I work full-time and also have young kids, this may or may not happen as planned.

*******

The address on the card wasn’t at all familiar, nor the neighborhood. All Dean knew was that it was one wealthy area as he headed down the tree lined street, magnificently designed apartment buildings reaching sky high to the clouds. Fucking ridiculous.

Who the hell had this kind of money?

He’d left Castiel with the promise of returning the next evening—now tonight---showing up to the address promptly at six. He wasn’t to have eaten, which sucked because now he was pretty damn hungry, and somehow had the idea that any food at Castiel’s was going to be fancy and weird, too. Like snails or fish or something equally as nasty.

His stomach growled as he marched from his car to the building, feeling unsettled and less and less confidant with each passing step.

How the hell did he get into this situation?

Yes, the thought of that much money for just a night – Castiel had said something about breakfast, so he figured he’d be there for the whole night and then some in the morning – was too much a lure to pass up. 

But there was also something about the man himself, about Castiel. Like, he wanted to make sure Castiel was pleased by his appearance. It actually mattered to him what that man thought of him, and what was that about? Dean never really gave a shit how others perceived him, so why this man and this situation now, he didn’t have a fucking clue. But it did matter.

Had even spent extra time trying to scrub the grease and oil stains from his hands and underneath his fingernails. Figures Bobby would have him start a transmission rebuild the same day he was to present himself to this pristine and expensive world.

He was worried a bit about what he was going to be facing up there, though. If his computer wasn’t so shitty (never mind it was mostly his fault for accidentally knocking it off the table and cracking the screen) he would have looked up this whole baby-daddy thing to see what was what. Not that he hadn’t heard of sugar-daddies, or the whole ‘who’s your daddy’, but this situation seemed a giant step away from all that.

Then again, maybe it was better to not go in with any preconceived ideas.

No way was he going to be able to call this man Castiel ‘daddy’ and not burst out laughing. Or crying, if he let his heart open up to thinking too hard about the fuck ups of his own dad.

Nah, ‘daddy’ wasn’t going to roll off his tongue easily.

Still, he could get through this night. Be whatever the rich dude in the ritzy apartment paid him to be.

Card in hand, Castiel’s handwriting as neat and proper as Dean would have guessed it to be, he stood in front of the massive entry doors, only to jump back as they suddenly opened and a uniformed door guy’s face thrust forward.

“Good evening. May I help you?”

“Uh,” Dean began, totally thrown and realizing in that moment that he only knew the guy as Castiel. No last name. “I’m, ah, here to see Castiel. Apartment P-3?”

The guy’s eyes brightened and he pushed the door further open. “Oh, yes. Mr. Copil. I was told to be expecting you. Please.”

Mr. Copil? What the fuck?

He gave a slight head shake, “I’m not sure I’m who…“ but the doorman was already off, glancing back as he clearly expected Dean to be following along.

“You’ll be taking this elevator to Penthouse 3. He’s been expecting you.”

Before he knew it, Dean was ushered into the elevator, the doorman doing something with a key and then the doors closed and Dean was alone and blinking at his own rather wide-eyed reflection staring back at him from the mirror-lined elevator walls.

What the hell was he doing. This wasn’t him. None of this was anything even remotely familiar to anything that even remotely resembled the life and times of Dean Winchester.

He couldn’t do it. Walking into a quick hand job, blow job or poke was one thing. It was familiar and not the greatest job, but he at least knew what was expected of him. Done and over quickly, for the most part, and an extra twenty to fifty bucks in his pocket.

This, though. This was an entire night and then some with a guy who had more money than, well, anyone, and who also wanted him to call him Daddy.

Fuck it. This wasn’t going to work. When the elevator stopped, he’d just press the button and head back down and out. This was just not gonna happen. Daddy, geez.

The elevator slowed then stopped with a melodic chime indicating its arrival instead of the usual ding (of course even the elevator would sound expensive), and he waited for the doors to open so he could then push the button to close ‘em back up and head down…

Except the doors opened and stayed open and there, framed in the middle of them both, was Castiel.

Daddy.

“Dean.”

His mouth was hanging wide open, he could feel it. Slowly let it close as he met those blue eyes. 

“Welcome,” Castiel was telling him, arm open and stepping aside so Dean could make his way out into the…not a hallway. At least, not an apartment hallway. 

He was standing in the foyer to Castiel’s apartment. The elevator opened right smack into the guy’s apartment.

It was one of the nicest places Dean had ever been in. Polished wood floors and huge windows with long curtains and what looked to be the largest, softest behemoth of a sofa he’d ever seen. Across from it stood a stone fireplace that climbed all the way up to the high ceiling.

Dean wasn’t usually interested in furniture and carpets and things, but this place was freaking unbelievable.

“Come in, come in,” Castiel was reaching for him. “Let me take your jacket.”

Which, yeah, whatever. Dean slipped out of his leather jacket, still taking in the luxury of the place as Castiel took it and hung it up. “Geez, Castiel, this place is like whoa.”

“I’m very glad you like it. I haven’t been here long, am still trying to get it together but I’m not much for picking out all of this myself. Trust me, everything you’re looking at was styled and picked out by someone else. I just pay them to make it livable.”

Livable? Livable was a thin but decent enough mattress topped with a warm enough blanket and enough hot water in the morning. This place, though. There wasn’t anything not to like. Even the white rug looked deep enough and soft enough that Dean had this urge to run over and sink his toes in it.

“Take your shoes off, if you wouldn’t mind?”

He snapped back to Castiel and looked down at his worn leather boots. “Yeah, sure.” Couldn’t remember if he had holes in his socks, even though he did take care to pick out his best t-shirt, flannel and jeans. Fortunately, socks intact. “So…”

“So, I hope you’re hungry.”

Dean’s stomach rumbled in agreement, and they both laughed.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Castiel turned. “Back here. We’ll eat in the kitchen.”

This wasn’t at all what Dean was expecting. Not the richness of the place. Not the friendly and warm attitude Castel was showing him. Not that he was expecting otherwise, it was just throwing him off center. Like some sort of calm before the storm. When was the kid stuff going to start?

“I thought we could eat together before beginning anything else. That way we can become a bit more comfortable with one another. Better acquainted a bit, if that’s satisfactory with you?”

“Comfortable. Yeah, sure.” Again, it was as if Castiel had a direct line to his brain. ’’We’re not gonna eat snails, are we?” Figured he ought to at least prepare himself for something else unfamiliar since everything else was throwing him off.

“Escargot?” Castiel said with a light laugh. “Hardly. Why, are you a fan of French food?”

“French fries, sure. That’s about it, though,” he said with his own laugh and wondered again at being here for the night. Castiel seemed nice enough. Definitely wasn’t sending Dean any warning signals, so he didn’t think the guy was an ax murderer or anything. Just wished he could get a better read on the guy.

He followed Castiel back into what turned out to be an open kitchen/family room area. Larger than anything Dean had ever been in before, but not so huge that it didn’t have a sense of warmth. 

Castiel was gesturing to dinner already placed on plates set around a small circular table. “I took the liberty of ordering food for you. Hope you like burgers and fries. Not very elegant, I’m afraid. But I’d heard these were the best in the area.”

“Works for me.” A relief, really, and then saw the steakhouse name on the delivery bag next to the food. Burgers from this place had to be twenty bucks each at least.

Castiel motioned for Dean to sit at the table, which he did, hungrily checking out the thick burger and steak cut fries laying like food porn across his plate.

Next thing he knew, he was half-rising as he felt Castiel wrapping hands around his neck from behind. “What—“

“It’s just a bib, Dean.” Castiel pushed gently on his shoulders and he sat back down, muscles tensed at the feel of the man’s hands fumbling around his neck. 

In two seconds, there was a plastic and cloth thing circling his throat.

Oh fuck, no.

The reality of it all hit him. Hit him hard, and he moved to grab it and yank it off when a hand came down and settled on top of his.

“We’ll go slow, okay, Dean? If you don’t want to do this, tell me now. Otherwise, I promise, we’ll go slow with small steps. Baby steps, no pun intended.”

“Just, I wasn’t…” Take a breath, he told himself. It’s just a bib. “Yeah,” he said, agreeing mentally as well. He was here for the night, not like he didn’t know where this was headed, really. “It’s okay.” I’m okay, he thought. This is harmless, even if he did feel somewhat humiliated.

Castiel’s breath tickled his ears as he was crouched behind him, closing the velcro of the bib that now draped around him. It came down low enough over his shirt for Dean to see it. There were yellow ducks waddling across the front. Jesus.

Castiel was humming, seemingly unware of Dean’s discomfort as he dropped gracefully into the chair across from him. Smiling as he clearly liked the sight of the bib, and Dean felt relieved when he didn’t actually make a comment about the thing. The less said about all of this, the easier it might be to move through. Slow. Slow was good.

“Don’t wait, please. Dig in. Eat.”

He did, doing his best to ignore the thing hanging around his neck. Figured he might as well try to get to know the guy, given he was about to spend more than just a few hours with him. “So, Castiel. That’s an interesting name.”

Castiel smiled. It was a good look on the man. “Family name. My brothers and sister and I are all named after angels. My mother had a thing, I guess you could say.”

“And Mr. Copil?” 

“Ha. That. Well, I had to come up with something to tell Angelo about expecting you. I don’t know your last name, after all, and just saying ‘Dean’ seemed a bit too cheap, in a way.”

“You mean in a cheap rent-a-date don’t want the neighbors gossiping way?”

“That’s not really what I meant.”

“It’s okay. I get it.” Dean said and nodded, grabbing for a napkin as burger juice ran a thin stream down toward to chin. If nothing else, he was getting an amazing meal out of the night.

“Here. Let me,” Castiel said and reached for the napkin to wipe at Dean’s face. He was smiling again when Dean let him do it without a fuss. “It means child. Baby. In Romanian.”

“What?”

“Copil. Seemed fitting for the situation. Kind of moment of levity, if you will.”

“Oh.” Castiel looked so eager as he told him why he’d picked that name. Happy.

“So, you’re from Romania then?”

“No. Ohio,” Castiel said then took a few bites of his own burger. “Are you a native here, Dean?”

“You mean was I born and raised here? Not hardly.” He wasn’t going to go into just how many places his dad dragged him and Sam to during their childhood. “I been a rolling stone most of my life, you might say. Been here a while now, though. For me, anyways.” He bit off the end of another fry. Goddamn good food. “Hey, uh, would you mind if I got some water or something?”

Castiel perked up at the request. “Oh, sorry. Of course. I forgot drinks. Here, you sit and I’ll grab us both something. What would you like?”

“A beer’d go down good with the burger, if you got some.”

“Well, normally I’d say milk or juice, but seeing as we have barely yet scratched the surface of tonight, I’ll allow one beer.”

One beer, Dean thought, when a six pack would be preferred. At least Castiel was giving him that concession. He should have had a shot or two before coming here to calm his nerves.

Castiel was opening cabinets and the refrigerator, Dean heard the clunk of heavy glass bottles set onto the counter and was halfway to shoving a massive bite of burger in his mouth when a light green plastic cup suddenly plunked down in front of him. It had a bunch of balloons on the front. And handles on each side. And a plastic top with a spout. “Uh—“

“It’s a sippy cup, Dean. Your sippy cup. I gave you the beer, but you’ll drink it my way.”

Wow. Okay. Well, won’t be too awful if it’s filled with beer, right? and wrapped a hand around the cup.

“Use both hands on your cup, sweetie. Please.”

A bib, a sippie cup and good god, now he was sweetie.  
Small steps, Castiel had said. Baby steps.

His first three baby steps into this night.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I can say with certainty that there will be more and more tags added as this fic heads down a more angsty path. Just sayin'. It has also left the initial prompt behind.
> 
> Hope you enjoy as Dean and Cas discover just how much they need one another over the course of this fic.

***

Looking around Castiel’s living room was almost like finding himself on another planet. No one Dean had ever known outside of a T.V. show actually lived this way. The money it must have cost just to buy the furniture in the place, holy hell, Batman. 

“Comfortable?”

Yeah, he thought, not really. “Doin’ alright,” he answered with Castiel just standing there looking at him. He still couldn’t really get a read on the man, which was a little off-putting as he could pretty much read everybody.

The bib, thankfully, was gone. While he understood that what was coming up on the agenda wasn’t going to exactly be in his comfort book of ‘been there, done that’, he also didn’t want to think too hard about it, either. The less focused, the better off he’d be when the next step happened.

Castiel had invited him to sit out here and make himself comfortable while he cleaned up the dishes from dinner. Had whisked the bib off, giving one last swipe of it over Dean’s face which just made Dean flash to a memory of doing the same to Sammy when he was little. 

He wondered if he gave Castiel the same squished up face of annoyance that Sammy used to give him. Made him smile at the memory.

Now Castiel was sitting across from him and Dean couldn’t help but feel a little like he was dancing on pins and needles about the progression—or non-progression—of the night’s events. 

He’d been there close to an hour and really nothing had happened except he’d had to wear a bib and drink out of a sippy cup during a pretty awesome dinner. The sippy cup was now sitting in front of him on the table, filled with the other half of his one allowed bottle of beer. It was all he could do not to chug it down in one go, and he may have except the little holes in the spout really only allowed for a swallow at a time at best. What he wouldn’t give for a shot of whiskey.

“Do you like music?”

Dean nodded, brightening. Hell, yeah, he knew music. “Yeah, sure. Music’s good,” and within seconds the muted sounds of violins were singing softly in the background. Not exactly what he was thinking, but then…

Castiel was smiling. “Hope you like classical; I find it soothing and restful.” 

“It’s fine.” Jesus, Dean thought, awkward. Classical music might very well just put him to sleep, especially as Castiel seemed to really be listening. Dean didn’t want to break whatever cello-viola-clarinet zone the man was currently floating in, so he just sat staring down at his socks and marveling at how they were mostly immersed in the depths of the thickest and whitest rug he’d ever sunk his feet into. 

This was such bullshit, the snail’s pace of what was -not- going on. He wasn’t used to just sitting around and waiting. It was setting him on edge.

Castiel seemed to be relaxed enough, though, in his starched button-down shirt way.

“Cas-Castiel…can I ask you…”

“You may ask me anything, Dean.”

“Why…me?” Dean had been wanting to ask. “Why’d you approach me about your…about this?”

Castiel stared at him a few seconds, head tilted at an angle that suggested he was studying Dean as much as figuring how to answer the question. “Well,” he began, “at the risk of possibly unnerving you, yesterday was not the first time I’d noticed you, Dean.”

That threw him, and he shifted, suddenly feeling, yeah, pretty much unnerved. “What, so you…you’ve been…”

“I haven’t been stalking you, Dean, if that’s what you’re trying to ask. I have, however, seen you around a few times, and, well, contrary to your explanation of not being a…what did you call it? A regular boy? I somehow did get the sense that you may, perhaps, be open to an offer of sorts.”

“Okay.”

“Does that make you uncomfortable, my telling you this? Because I don’t mean to, Dean.”

Did it? Not like he hadn’t been in way more awful situations than finding himself in a luxury apartment, sitting on an expensive white couch and drinking beer from, okay, a little kid cup, but still.

“No, not really. Guess it’s just, I’m just, kinda…” What was he kind of, anyway? Wary, maybe. Unsure, definitely. “So how long did it take to finally come up to me? How long you been watching me and wondering if I’d say yes?”

Castiel shook his head. “Again, I’m not a stalker, Dean. I’m just…an accountant who’s looking for something I’ve wanted but never… I haven’t ever been able to…” He trailed off, words faint and distant, then looked up and Dean caught the sincerity in those blue eyes. If nothing else, the man wasn’t a liar. This was something he seemed emotional about.

“I just know that when I saw you, the first time I saw you, Dean, well, I thought you were someone who I could possibly do this for… approach about this, my request. I don’t know exactly what it was about you that drew me in –many things, I guess- or why I finally gained courage enough to ask you when I’ve never asked anyone ever before. I just know there was something about you that I somehow felt connected to, even from afar, if you will, and I just… I had to find out.”

“Very distant connection, considering I’ve never even seen you until you came up to me yesterday.”

Castiel was back to looking at him with that kind of quizzical squinty-eyed head tilt. It made him look a bit vulnerable, which totally threw Dean off in that second and he felt kind of bad for the slightly nasty tone laced through his own words.

It was almost as if he was suddenly feeling like he needed to please the guy, which, what the hell? That threw Dean off even more. 

“Does it matter really, though, Dean, if we have any sort of connection? I mean, it is just one night. You’re here, and I’m clearly going to uphold my end of the offer by paying you -handsomely, I might add- for your time.”

Wow. Gone was that sense of vulnerability. Castiel was back to the man who knew enough of himself to approach another man on the street about a proposition that was definitely off the beaten path of normal. 

Then Castiel offered him a hint of a soft smile. “I’m trying to feel my way along this, if you must know. Having someone here, someone that will allow me to indulge myself, well, it’s like suddenly winning the lottery and not knowing quite how to proceed to collect the winnings.”

“Oh..kay,” Dean began, a part of him thinking that now is the point he should be running for the door. Like now, right now, right-right now. Instead, he heard the words coming out of his mouth before even registering speaking. “Look, you just want to sit and talk, fine by me. It’s your dollar.”

Castiel nodded, then stood and offered Dean a hand up off the couch. “Why don’t we just get started first, then we can converse as we go, all right?”

“Yeah, sure,” Dean said. “Okay.” Relax, he told himself. Breathe.

 

=^..^=

‘First’ turned out to be a shower. They’d talked a bit longer, nothing much said as small talk could only go so far, and Dean wasn’t really looking to open up to the man about himself. It wasn’t like he was going to ask Castiel about his life, either. He never got personal with anyone outside his few close friends and family. Especially not ‘clients’.

The thing was, though, he was finding that he hadn’t really minded just sipping beer through a sippy cup and engaging in small talk. Chatting about music and movies and weather with the man wasn’t so awful, really. He was actually becoming drawn to Castiel in a way. The classic music and quiet nature - all his quirkiness. Really was kind of liking the guy. Maybe there was some sort of connection, like Castiel had said. Who knew?

Given he was about to spend the entire night with him, figured that feeling some sort of connection was better than not being able to stand the man. 

Castiel walked him back to what looked like a guest room, all shades of blues and grays and dark wood furniture atop another deeply piled white rug that looked brand spanking new.

Castiel then asked him to… “You want me to shower?”

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Castiel told him again, as he handed him a bottle. “It isn’t that I think you’re dirty, Dean. I just would prefer you to be freshly showered. There’s a bathrobe in the bathroom for your use. Just fold and leave your clothing in there, and I’ll meet you out here when you’ve finished.”

The bottle was a softly scented shower gel. There was, not surprisingly, Dean figured, an unopened bottle of baby shampoo in the shower, and he used that and the shower gel to lather up and clean pretty much everywhere.

Wasn’t thrilled about the fluttering in his belly, though, and tried to mentally send himself into a sense of calm as he stood under the warm spray. Who knew that one night of acting like a child - role-play, Castiel had called it - would have him feeling so wound up?

“Snap out of it, Winchester,” he chided himself. “This is just like any other job. Suck it up and relax and think of the pay-out in the morning.” 

He dried off, brushed his teeth with the new toothbrush he assumed was left for him, then slipped on the ultra-thick terry robe, enjoying the hell out of the plush warmth. Luxuries like this were, well…a luxury.

He could do this. He could totally do this night, he could.

Piece of cake.

=^..^=

Castiel was waiting for him when he walked out of the steamy bathroom. The man offered him a warm smile from where he was sitting on the bed. There was a large towel spread out over the comforter.

Castiel patted the bed. “Come here.”

Dean took a deep breath, tried not to tense up, and headed over to the man. To his ‘Daddy’ for the night.

Castiel stood and wrapped a hand over the robe covering Dean’s shoulder. “Let’s take this off, and have you lie face down on the towel, okay?” Castiel must have felt him tense, because he was then squeezing his hands against his shoulders. “It’s okay. Baby steps, remember?”

Fuck yes, he remembered. Slow, Castiel had said. Slow small steps. Not likely he was going to forget, but the idea of now disrobing and spreading himself across the towel…well, he wasn’t expecting to be so naked so quickly.

He did as asked, though, hurriedly planting himself face down and happy to find the towel was soft against his skin. Like heavenly soft. No laundry he did ever felt this way. Jumped a bit when Castiel’s hand suddenly dropped to rest on the upward swell of his ass. Not a smack, just unexpected.

“So, I, uh, okay - I thought you said you weren’t interested in…”

“Sex? Is that what you think is going to happen?” Castiel asked and Dean quickly glanced over his shoulder, catching Castiel’s eyes. “It isn’t, Dean. Rest assured, this is not about sex.”

Okay, this was not a conversation he ever thought he would have while lying naked in front of another man about to _not_ have sex. Nodded to Castiel anyway because at this point, with him naked and pretty much all on display in front of another man, what more could he do but go with the flow? Closed his eyes on a long exhale, only to snap them open at the burst of cold liquid that hit his spine.

“Lotion, sweetie. Just some baby lotion. I thought it might help both of us to relax and ease into things if I massaged you a bit, okay? That’s all that’s happening. I’m sorry it’s a bit cold.”

Jesus, this… everything seemed so familiar, yet so very not at the same time. Not like he hadn’t ever had a massage, and not like he hadn’t ever been called baby before, although not in the literal context. He told himself to quit being so jumpy and closed his eyes again at the feel of hands beginning to spread the lotion onto his skin.

And didn’t that have him snorting.

“What’s so funny?”

He half hand-waved. “Oh, nothing. Sorry. Just, you know, ‘it rubs the lotion on its skin’ thing. I’m not…it just struck me and fuck, did I snort?”

There was a long pause, and Castiel’s hands stilled. “I’m sorry. I should’ve asked if you were okay with a massage, Dean. Do you want me to stop?”

Now he did a half turn, one hand braced as he looked up at Castiel over his shoulder. The man had a look of distressed concern. “No, Castiel. It’s all good. That’s just, you know, Hannibal Lecter and all?”

Castiel frowned. “I’m not familiar, no.”

Wow, really? “Just a line from a movie. But, ah, that’s okay. As long as you’re not a cannibal, I’m okay.” He shifted back to his stomach, head resting on the towel.

“No. Not a cannibal, I can assure you.” Castiel poured a little more lotion onto him, hands spreading it as they began to wind in slow circles. “Let me help you relax, that’s all this is about. And you letting me do this helps me relax as well.”

“Okay. I can…I can do that.” And he could. The long strokes Castiel was kneading into his skin felt awesome. Tight shoulders and calves beginning to relax. His neck loosened up. Who knew agreeing to this night would lead to a pretty awesome massage. “Smells good,” he mumbled into the towel. “S’nice.”

“I’m glad you like it,” Castiel said softly. “It has that baby smell. I have always been partial to the scent.”

Dean was drifting, right up to the point hands began smoothing over his ass. That had him tensing again.

Castiel’s voice sounded in his ear, close enough he had to be leaning down over him. “Relax, it’s just lotion. I’m not doing anything untoward. I just want your bottom baby soft.”

Oh, sure, Dean thought as he blew out a long breath. Baby soft ass. Why the hell not? Fuck.

Castiel’s hands felt good, though, Dean would admit. The man clearly knew what he was doing, and so Dean mentally relaxed as well, muscles and brain quieting down to the point that after a while, he found he was drifting asleep. Even as that should be a surprise given he’s never done it, never allowed himself to fall asleep with any paying client before –ever- right now in the moment of being comfortable and warm, even while naked, he just didn’t care. He felt good. It all felt good, and he was somehow okay with it. With Castiel.

And then Castiel said, “Let’s get you rolled over and onto your back, baby.”

Which, okay. Roll over. Yeah, okay. Not like he wasn’t used to showing himself to clients. Not like he had a hard-on, either, as relaxed as he was, which was a relief. Somehow the idea of that – that Castiel would see him with an erection - was embarrassing. Why, he wasn’t sure, just felt like it would be wrong, somehow. And wasn’t that a fucking kick in the ‘nads, for shit’s sake. Dean didn’t do embarrassed, especially over the status of his own dick. 

But, he was relieved there was nothing visible to be embarrassed about when he turned over. Looked up to find Castiel staring at him. At his dick. Like, pointedly. What the hell? There was no erection, not even a twinge.

“Oh, okay, that’s not... that will need to be taken care of.”

“Taken care of?”

“Hair.” Castiel caught his eyes and without pause nor apology, just blurted out. “My baby shouldn’t have any hair there. All right?” Castiel nodded toward him, toward his hair. “You understand?”

Oh, shit. Dean would neaten himself up occasionally, especially when low on money and looking for a client because while women didn’t seem to care much, the male clients he found definitely seemed to prefer a close cut. But neaten up and none at all weren’t exactly the same. Oh, no. He swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. “I don’t…”

Castiel reached out and ran a hand down Dean’s cheek, fingers stroking along his cheek. “Only if you’re okay with it.”

Castiel seemed so earnest and why the hell Dean felt the need to give in to this man’s eyes… 

“Sure,” Dean said, hearing how hoarse his voice sounded, and feeling so not at all sure. Money. Remember there was money at the end of this road. “Yeah, okay,” he said again. “Whatever floats your boat.” He was then clearing his throat of the sudden jam and wondering again as he watched Castiel break into a wide grin as he up and left the room, just what in the hell had he committed himself to this night.

=^..^=


	4. Chapter 4

This was just…

“Oh, man, this is going to itch when it comes in later, isn’t it?”

Never mind Castiel coming at him with a razor. Never mind the wet washcloth followed by a covering of shaving cream. Never mind the scraping sounds and Castiel’s face full of intense concentration and hoping like hell nothing was accidentally sliced down there.

The end result was going to be that he would be shaved bare and at some point, it was going to have to grow back.

Also, never mind that Castiel handling him, moving bits around to get to other bits, that was, well, that was definitely causing a stir.

Castiel didn’t seem to really notice, though. Or care, anyway. “Relax, baby. I’ll be done in just…a…bit.” Each last word said with a light swipe of the razor, and then Castiel was smiling down at him. “All done. You…you look…”

Like something Castiel wanted to eat, from the look that flashed across his face for a split-second. And Dean would be kind of all for that, except he was clearly getting the impression Castiel was not going to head that direction at all. This had to be the first time he’d had a man this close who was handling his private parts with a fair amount of ease, yet not looking to get down to anything.

Was going to take some getting used to, that’s all.

He was wiped down and then dried off, and it was all Dean could do to not let the feel of it fill him up: the towel rubbing and the decidedly not-so-awful feeling of newly bared skin. God, who knew it would feel like that? Like airy and fresh. He could swear he could feel a breeze. Definitely could feel Castiel’s light exhales.

“Okay,” Castiel announced, “Let’s get you powdered up.”

More touching. Dean wasn’t sure what was happening here. Castiel had said no sex, or that he wasn’t sure about sex, or that maybe he was thinking about sex at some point but wasn’t going to act on it, Dean couldn’t quite remember the exact phrasing of the man’s words. Clearly now, though, Dean wasn’t feeling any sort of ‘moving into sex’ vibe from the man at all. But the touching, geez.

Castiel was immersed in a cloud of powder. Baby powder, and it was everywhere. He was waving it away from the air, Dean was waving it away from his face and sneezing…

“Aw, bless you,” Castiel said with a laugh. “I think, perhaps, I may have overdone.” 

“You think?” Dean sneezed again and then found himself smothered with a cloth that Castiel was wiping over his face. He opened his eyes and looked up to find the man staring down at him again, baby powder still in hand and just…gazing longingly, came to mind.

“Dean.”

Whispered softly, and if this had been any other situation… if Castiel hadn’t already intimated that he wasn’t interested in sex during this role-play scenario... 

Dean would be on him in a second, and lord, where did that come from? Yes, he was initially attracted when he met the guy, but holy fuck, he was now realizing just how very attracted to Castiel he was becoming…much more than just that brief spark of ‘there’s a good-looking guy’ attraction.

This should not be happening. Not now. Not ever. He didn’t do attractions with clients. Bonus for him if they were good looking, but Dean never looked at them as anything more than play-then-pay jobs.

He closed his eyes, tried to pull himself out from a sexual plane and into a headspace more befitting a child. A baby, whatever that headspace might be. Dean had no problem playing a submissive role, felt it rather naturally at times, anyway, so this should come fairly easily even if he’d never played this before.

While, yeah, this was a bit different sort of role-play than what he’d participated in before, he would manage because this was totally Castiel’s night. Bought and paid for. He was paying for Dean to be his kid, not his lover. So then, Dean would be his kid. Baby. Think baby, Winchester, and stop thinking naked and willing and spread out here all over this bed.

Relax, he told himself. Recite lyrics. Name sizes of socket wrenches. Think of his landlord, Crowley, naked. Think of Bobby naked. 

There was a hand smoothing the powder all over his groin. Fingers trailing up and down and around… tickling…

Think of Crowley with Bobby, naked.

Same hand now smoothing powder all over his ass, between his thighs and into that little crevice behind his… shit. Things were getting hard, in more ways than one.

“Lift up for me, sweetie.”

There is no way he was getting through this night without a boner rising, fuck it all. And he didn’t want that. Didn’t want to make Castiel uncomfortable. He didn’t want this to happen if Castiel wasn’t into it. He was supposed to be the man’s child for the night.

Hands were pushing at his thighs again, and he draped an arm over his eyes. Castiel just had to stop touching him everywhere. It was not helping.

He ran though the list of jobs he still needed to complete at Bobby’s auto yard. Ticked off the weeks until Sam’s graduation. Counted the dollars he still needed to finish paying for Sam’s final semester. God knew where all the money would come from that would be needed when Sam got into law school.

“There,” Castiel was saying. “You…you look adorable. I knew you would.”

He opened his eyes, Castiel was still staring down at him, but there was something different… something soft and thick between his legs, bundling up his dick and balls. Oh, hell… he was wearing a…

“I chose cloth diapers for now. Disposables are good, too, although I’m not thrilled about the environmental impact, but there are times when they’ll have to do.”

This was insane.

Castiel was still talking. “I laundered these a few times so they’d feel soft and fluffy for you. Hopefully, I won’t ever stick you with the pin. I didn’t realize how hard it would be to push them through all that cloth.”

“Ivory soap,” Dean said, surprising himself when the words came spilling out of his mouth. He for sure didn’t need to encourage the diaper situation.

“What?” That head tilt again. Castiel looked so endearing when he did that.

“It’s… I used to change my brother when he was little, and cloth was cheaper than disposables when there wasn’t any money. Stick the pin in soap first, it helps get it through.” 

Offering suggestions like he was putting a final seal on his own fate for the night was not his intention. He didn’t need to encourage any of this, not that he wasn’t acutely aware that this was going to happen. Diapers. He just hadn’t wanted to think about it. Didn’t want to now think about the fact he was wearing one and that Castiel may very well want him to use it before the night was over.

Hands wrapped his ankles and something soft and plasticky was then being drawn up his legs. Got to be kidding.

“Lift up again a bit, please.” And yes, Castiel was putting him in plastic pants. They had little yellow bumble bees all over them.

“I look like a moron,” he blurted out, then winced and added, “oh, hey, I didn’t mean to say that.” Didn’t want to mock the man’s kink. Wondered if it could even be called a kink when there was no sex involved? 

Castiel was smiling at him, though. “You look…precious, actually,” he told him, then brushed a hand lightly across his diaper and plastic pant covered groin. Sweeping back and forth. Patting him.

Not helping. Not helping.

Then again, with all of this covering, if his dick decided to stand at attention, Castiel would most likely never know. And fuck if the cloth wrapping him wasn’t feeling like a gentle cupping hold on all his parts. Felt good. Felt too good. 

Castiel was playing with his feet then, putting socks on him or, no, some sort of knit bootie looking socks. And they tied with strings that had pompoms at the end, for shit’s sake.

He closed his eyes, not really wanting to see, just letting the man do what he wanted to do to him. That was the game, right? That’s what he was being paid to do.

Soft matching mittens encased his hands. “So you don’t scratch yourself, baby,” Castiel told him.

Whatever. Didn’t even want to think about what sort of clothing he was going to be made to wear.

And then there was pressure at his mouth, a rubber teat pushing between his lips and yeah, not a surprise either, really. What was a surprise was just where all this Dean-sized baby stuff came from.

“Suckle on this a bit for now while I clean up all of this powder, okay, sweetie?”

Dean gave a tentative suck, realized that he could shift the pacifier around and actually chew on it as well which was good because aside from the rubber taste, sucking on the thing was reminding him of giving head and that was the last thing he needed to think about. His head in Castiel’s crotch.

He shifted again, the diaper rubbing him a bit every time he did, and it was hard to not give in to his dick kind of pressing for more movement. It was like all of this stuff was designed to target and keep him excited, except there really wasn’t anything sexual at all about the way Castiel was treating him.

Weird he was feeling some excitement about being encased in a cloth diaper. He wasn’t supposed to be enjoying any of this, although having this soft pressure tucked around him wasn’t helping him _not_ enjoy the feel.

And there was more. He was just lying there, not thinking. Not doing. Not having to do anything but be…and that made him feel, was making him feel a tiny bit… safe? Comforted, kind of? And what the hell - where all that was coming from was beyond him.

Bullshit, was what that was. What it all was. He didn’t feel anything like that at all. He was here for just one night. Role-playing. A few hours, really, because they had to sleep at some point, then it would be morning and he’d be back in his own clothes, free to leave with a pocket full of cash.

He just needed to suffer through this to the end, then never have to see the man again.

Too bad Castiel had to be so damned attractive, though.

He closed his eyes and settled down, trying not to feel embarrassed by how he must look. Let his mitten covered hand rub lightly over his eyes and spread his legs apart with the hope his dick would take the hint and calm the hell down. It was not involved in this evening.

Baby, he thought, trying to get into the role for Castiel’s sake. A baby. Just a baby for the night. Just a big, moronic looking baby with half a boner for my ‘daddy’, sure…

Oh, fuck it, Dean, and shut up.

Just lie here quietly, not thinking, not doing, and wait for Castiel to come back and introduce the next baby step. Whatever crazy thing that might be.


	5. Chapter 5

His butt itched. Fucking…

Where the hell was Castiel?

He’d been gone forever and what time was it, anyway?

Dean had no idea about either, but felt like hours since Castiel had gone off just to wash his hands or do whatever the hell it was he was doing. And okay, maybe not hours, but long enough for Dean to start feeling a bit itchy. A bit restless. A whole lot unsure, and he did not like to feel unsure about anything.

This was bullshit.

The room was fairly dark with only one small lamp to see by, and quiet. Too quiet. He could just make out the tinkling of faint notes of the music playing out in the living area, but that was about it. If Castiel was still in the bathroom in here, he was being incredibly silent about whatever he was doing… and just what was he doing?

Where’d he go?

Castiel. The man was odd, but interesting. Weird, but attractive. Like, interesting and attractive in a sit back and stare way, not that Dean ever really did that - or not for long, anyway, as usually the target would wander over and introduce him or herself once it was noticed that Dean was sending them attention.

Even overlooking the odd and weird –not even going to think about the daddy thing- Dean liked Castiel. At least, he liked what he’d been around so far, even if had only been for a short time. Weird short time. Okay, maybe he didn’t really know if he liked everything he’d been around so far, but he was still pretty sure he liked Castiel.

Maybe there was some sort of connection between them like Castiel had said. It’d be nice if the man would bother to come back so Dean could see what there was of that connection underneath all this baby stuff…but still Castiel was a no show. What was that about?

Minutes were stacking on top of other minutes to make what felt like a ridiculous amount of way too many minutes for him to just be sitting here -lying here- waiting around. Waiting around like this.

Too long. Too quiet. Too long and too quiet - and the problem with that was it was giving Dean way too much time and too much quiet to be wandering around inside his own head. He started thinking way too much about what this little scenario was about and where it might be headed. The weirdness it could get to...

Baby. No. Oh, hell, no.

This was crazy. He wasn’t comfortable. He was… grabbed and tossed away the pacifier, then let his arms fall heavily to the mattress, lying spread-eagled as he stared up at the ceiling.

A bead of sweat was trickling slowly down his ass crack. Another ran down between his legs to pool under his balls. 

It was like torture. He was hot. Itchy, hot and…stupid. 

Threw the mittens off while kicking off the booties. What the fuck was he doing here? This wasn’t him. This was fucked up, was what this was.

He couldn’t do this, could he? Stilled for a minute and closed his eyes and made himself think. Think. Yes, okay, he’d agreed. Had said yes to this. All of this. Yes, the money he was being paid was a fuckton and really hard to pass up for just one night of this…this humiliation. 

Small steps. Small steps, Castiel had said. Baby steps…except he was already encased in a diaper and pants with bees on them and a pacifier and he wasn’t ready for it. Not any of it. It was weird. This wasn’t a small step, this was a huge, gigantic, monster hurdle.

This was nuts. This was…

Okay. Calm down, he chided. He could do this. ‘Course he could do this. Just role-play.

Castiel seemed like a good guy… and okay, so Dean was pretty damned sure he wasn’t going to be able to call Castiel daddy -ever-ever-ever- but he could do this. What’s one night?

He just didn’t like that he’d been left alone like this. At all. Being left to think about it wasn’t working…and god, the weirdness of what was between his legs, and the itching. 

He grabbed the thick bulge of diaper around his dick and shifted and pressed, trying to relieve the itch from the light tickle coming from the sweat running over his now bared skin. And oh, yeah, that felt good. Arched up into his touch and started rubbing harder, grinding some into the diaper because that was feeling really good now and...

Forced himself to be still. Not what this was about. Castiel had said this wasn’t about sex or…

Shit. maybe he should go find Castiel. Maybe…

Maybe he just couldn’t do this.

Baby and daddy. Daddy, hell. Pushed down the plastic pants, fingers fumbling at the head of the pins holding his diaper, trying to get them undone.

Now that his brain was taking over, all the ridiculousness of this was filling his head…fast. Yes, he’d taken on clients. Yes, he’d taken pay for sex, sometimes pretty damned kinky sex that, okay, sometimes was his thing, sometimes wasn’t his thing. This, though…

Sex he knew. Been there, done that…or most everything. Depending. At least knew what to expect and what was expected from him for the most part. Knew or could guess what was coming…but this? This was about a grown-ass man pretending to be another man’s baby, and what was he supposed to do with that?

He grabbed onto the diaper and pants and just shoved the whole thing down, wriggling and kicking until he was free. He had to get out of here.

Clothes. In the bathroom. Bounded in there, pulling on socks and jeans, t-shirt and flannel and…fuck, forgot underwear which, whatever. Shoved them into his pocket, his watch into the other pocket and headed for the door…

Only to run into Castiel standing there with a baby bottle in one hand, a phone in the other and a look that seemed like a cross between distress and utter bewilderment.

“Dean?”

Dean couldn’t look at him, just shook his head and mumbled out a whole lot of who knows what as he passed, the gist pretty much, “Sorry. I’m sorry, Castiel. Sorry. I just…I don’t think I can stay and… I just need to…”

Jammed his feet into his boots still left by the elevator, then stepped in and pushed the down button. 

Nothing happened.

He didn’t go anywhere. The doors didn’t move. The elevator didn’t move. He didn’t move. Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Castiel suddenly appeared, framed between the open doors. Those goddamn eyes. He was holding out a coat. 

“You forgot this.”

They stared, Dean grabbed his coat, feeling undone by the look he was reading on Castiel’s face.

“Castiel, I don’t want you…“

“Yeah. I got that,” Castiel interrupted before Dean could finish saying he didn’t want Castiel to think it was him. That he just wasn’t ready. That he was really sorry.

The man was then reaching past him into the elevator, turned a key in the top panel, pushed a button and then backed out quickly as the doors closed and Dean realized he was then heading down to the lobby before he had a chance to explain himself.

It all took just a few seconds.

He reached into his coat pocket for his car keys and pulled out two one hundred dollar bills with them and, damn it.

“Hope you had a nice visit, Mr. Copil.”

Glanced at the door guy and was then out the door, free from the whole scene, walking to his car, about to head to a bar for a whiskey with beer chaser and maybe a pretty face…

Why, then -why- did he feel so fucking bad?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have to say, never did I think my first spn fic would be in this genre!  
> That said, I do hope you're enjoying this, those of you reading. Many thanks for the kudos and comments.  
> It helps to know someone is liking it :)  
> Things are moving along, maybe slow, but Dean has some things to figure out and all.
> 
> Oh, and please watch the tags as things move onward. Thanks!
> 
> =^..^=

“Dean?”

Dean swallowed, eyes closing as the light tone of his brother saying his name sounded through his phone. “Heya, Sammy.” Felt good to hear Sam’s voice. Felt great.

“Sammy, huh? You say that like something’s… is everything okay, Dean?”

“Yeah,” he answered. “Everything’s good, as always. Just thought I’d check on the college boy, make sure you got everything you need.”

Sam laughed. “Dean, you don’t need to worry. I’m doin’ alright like I tell you every time we talk. Should be hearing back from my law school apps any time now, and once that happens, if I get in somewhere, I’ll be doing great. Pressure will be off.”

“’Course you’ll get in. You know you will.” Pressure, Dean thought, will _so_ be on. The idea of the money that was going to take made his head spin, even with the scholarships Sam was bound to get.

“Hey, got the two hundred in my account, by the way. And thanks, it helps…but Dean? You just sent me double that last week. Make sure you keep enough for yourself.”

Dean waved that away, even though Sammy couldn’t see it. “You know I pick up side jobs sometimes. I’m happy to send you some of the rewards from that, Sammy. You college boys need lotsa beer and pizza money, I know.”

“Dean, I don’t--okay, never mind,” Sam said, “But, look, I don’t need that much. And you, you don’t sound like…just, you’ll let me know if _you_ need anything, right?”

Long pause then, and Dean knew Sam could hear something in his voice. Thing was, he didn’t even know what that something was himself. He really was doing okay. Work at Bobby’s was pretty steady lately, pay was good, and he always did well shooting pool, not even having to hustle but just playing fair games. Hadn’t taken any ‘client’ work since…well, since that night.

Just, he’d been feeling kind of…off. Had been ever since that weirdness happened. Thought maybe sending Castiel’s money to Sam would seem kind of like that door closing. Except…except for his own damn brain somehow preventing it to close all the way. Fuck if he couldn’t seem to get that man or those few hours of that night out of his head.

And he sure as shit didn’t want to think of any of it.

“Dean?” Sam asked, “You would…you’d tell me if something was going on, right?”

Dean sent him an unseen massive eyeroll just out of habit. “Geez, Sam. I said I was good, I’m good. Stop being such a little girl. Everything’s peachy.”

Was good to hear Sam laugh into the phone. “Yeah, okay. You just sound kinda off or something, and I…”

“Nah, not off. Just tired, I guess. You know how it is with me, Sammy. Too many late nights of tits and ass, pecs and co…”

“Oh, god, don’t. I don’t want to hear any of your conquests, male or female.”

“Best of both worlds, Sammy. Don’t knock it.” Sam’s protest had Dean smiling. Yeah, he thought, everything was as it should be. He was fine.

=^..^=

Days went by, same ol’ day in, day out. Eat, work, eat, beer, pool, beer. He really was doing okay…

Just, every now and then Dean found himself flashing on that night. Sitting in Castiel’s living room. The elevator that opened right into the place. Castiel’s eyes. God, those eyes. Eating while wearing a bib – and once that sort of memory popped up, so, too, did the others all fighting for space in his head and he’d shut it all out. Didn’t want to think about it.

He’d done kink. Did kink. Didn’t usually have an issue with most things; there were only a handful of items listed on his _Hell must be frozen over_ page that he wouldn’t do.

That particular kink, though, with the…and the… 

He was sure Castiel never meant for him to feel humiliated, but it was there (although there were times he got off on feeling exactly that)—

This, though. He’d never encountered Daddy/Baby before, and for some reason now just thinking about what he’d been wearing, what he must have looked like, was making him feel…

Nope, not worth dwelling. 

He was just feeling off center because he had found himself liking Castiel, liking him a lot more than expected which was breaking his first rule of _client_ relationship –don’t have one, ever-- and then had run out on him. And running away was so not him. 

Threw a few apples in his basket. Bananas, apples and a head of iceberg lettuce because he’d promised Sam. He could already hear Sam telling him he needed dark green leaf lettuce to get the most nutritional value, blah-blah-blah. Figured he got points for putting any lettuce in his basket at all as far as he was concerned. May actually even eat some of it, too.

Grabbed some eggs, orange juice. Bread. Chips. Beef jerky. Frozen burrito. Food for one.

Grocery shopping for himself always seemed to really hammer home that Sam was gone. And okay, not gone like gone forever, he knew that… but Stanford was multiple states away, miles and miles away, different time zone away, and so yeah. There were times when he felt more alone than he’d like.

Which was stupid. He had Bobby, he had Sam via phone whenever he wanted. Could just text a ‘hey’ and Sam would reply back in an instant. Had Ellen, Ash and Jo at the bar. He had friends. Family. Friends that were family to him and Sam.

Wandered over to grab toothpaste, then to find some pie because that was one thing he’d never give up.

Wasn’t like he couldn’t call any one of those people if he were truly feeling lonely. Or, not lonely, exactly. He liked his privacy. Liked being able to do what he wanted, when he wanted. He wasn’t lonely, he was just feeling…

“Can I help you?”

Huh? 

“I’m sorry, you just seemed a bit confused and thought I could help. I know there’s so many to choose from. How old’s your baby?”

“I don’t have a baby,” came blurting out of his mouth, and what the?

He’d somehow mindlessly wandered into the baby aisle, found himself standing in front of a wall of diaper packs. There was a store worker smiling at him. Clearly she’d been unpacking boxes of stuff to stack on the shelves and he’d drawn her attention.

Now, she was staring at him, eyebrows raised and a look of confusion in her eyes, and he was pretty sure he was sending her the same look back because how did this even happen?

“I mean,” he amended because how stupid does this look now, and how long had he been just standing and staring at packages of baby diapers? “What I meant was, the baby’s not mine. It’s my uncle. No, I mean, I’m the uncle. To the baby. It’s –he’s-- my nephew.”

Now she was frowning. “Uh, huh. “

“I was just…my sister asked me to pick up a, uh, a pacifier. For the nephew. My nephew. The baby.”

He hated when older people peered over their glasses, it always reminded him of disapproving school teachers. She was doing just that now as she pointed to the end of the aisle. “They’re all over there. Sorted by age.”

“Oh, okay. Sure, I wondered. Didn’t see them. Thanks.”

He hurried down to the end of the aisle, seeing rows of colorful plastic shields and pretended to peruse the differences while she was still looking at him. Grabbed one from the bottom row that was a bright blue and tossed it into his basket, a quick glance and wave over to the store clerk who was now sending him a half a smile before returning to her boxes.

What in the hell was wrong with him? 

=^..^=

A few weeks later found the weather getting warmer, with a day or two already almost too hot and humid. Made working in the auto yard somewhat stifling as Dean found he was baking himself under the hood of one of their latest projects, a ‘70’s lime green Oldsmobile. Beautiful car, not in the greatest shape.

He stood and swept a forearm over the sweat trickling down his face.

“So?” The owner was standing behind him. Dean got the feeling the man had been looking at more than just the car engine from back there.

He grabbed a towel to wipe his hands and turned to the owner. “She’s got some work needed, but overall, I’d say she was a find.”

The man smiled. “Yeah, that’s what I thought, too. Heard good things about this place, figured you all could get her in shape for me.”

“Yep,” Dean agreed nodding, grabbing his water. “You came to the right place for sure. I’ll go through her a little more, then Bobby’ll get you an estimate sometime this week. If anyone can put her back together, we can. So, that work okay for you, Mr….”

“Gabe. Call me Gabe. Comes from Gabriel. My mother had a thing for angel names.”

Dean choked, the water shooting down his throat and heading in totally the wrong way.

Gabe short for Gabriel was patting him on the back. “Hey, you okay?”

He held up a hand, coughing but nodding. “’m good.” Stood, breath coming easier. “I’m okay.”

“Okay, then. Well, I look forward to doing business with you, ah,” Gabriel said and pulled away. “Didn’t catch your name.”

“Yeah, sorry.” Still coughing, geez. Angel names. No way they could be related. Right? What were the chances? “It’s Dean. I’m Dean.”

Gabriel stared at him a long beat. “Dean.” He seemed to be studying him, then was nodding. “Dean, really. Good looking. Twenties. Green eyes. Nice bod. Great voice.”

“Excuse me?” What the hell was he doing?

There was a smile all over Gabe’s face. “Let me ask you, if you don’t mind. You wouldn’t, by any strange and very coincidental chance, happen to know my brother…Cas?”

“Cas?” Oh, fuck.

“As in Castiel? Like I said, my mother had a thing…”

“For angel names,” Dean finished and shit, did he actually say that out loud? This was fucked up. Totally fucked up. Fuckingly-fucked-up-fucking-fuck. No way in fuck could this be happening.

Gabriel –Gabe- was still nodding. Still smiling. No, grinning - grinning in that evil knowing brother way. Dean knew that look. Dean created that look.

“It’s you,” Gabe asked him. “Isn’t it?”

“What’s me? Nothing’s me, I don’t…” Panic. He was feeling panicked. Did he sound panicky? That choking feeling was coming back.

“Relax,” Gabriel said, drawing the word out slowly. “I don’t know any details of whatever happened between you and my brother…although if you’d care to enlighten me, I’d be all ears. I’d love to get the low-down from the man who has somehow pushed my very tight-assed brother so very off-center.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” And the minute he said it, even he could hear the lie between his words.

Gabriel was leaning against the car, legs crossed, arms relaxed and still grinning happily. Knowingly. Kind of smugly actually. “Look, all I know is that my usually closed-mouth brother who never sees anyone said something about somebody he’d met…and I, being the concerned and caring older brother that I am, felt the need to needle it out of him until he told me at least who it was and what he looked like.”

“Uh…” What, had Castiel told him about the offer?

“Don’t worry, Deano. Your virtue is still intact.”

God, was the man smirking now? Really?

“What I mean is, Cas only said he’d met a young guy named Dean that he thought was nice and then he totally clammed up. I added all that other stuff just now after your little freak out when I mentioned the angel name thing. Figured it had to be you, what with your entire face lighting up in flames that way, so I embellished the description.”

Dean felt sick to his stomach. “You…”

“Are a total asshole? Yeah, pretty much. Been told that a time or two by my family.” Gabe was still grinning. “Listen, it was nice meeting you, really. I’ll go talk to Bobby; I’m definitely leaving the car to be worked on. Not hurry on it, I don’t need it for anything other than I want it fixed up at some point.”

He then headed toward the house and Bobby’s office area, then turned back with a wink. “Oh, and Dean? I’ll give my brother your regards.”

Fuck.

=^..^=

Dean brushed his teeth that night, staring at himself in the mirror. Still couldn’t believe it had happened. It was crazy – crazy that the new customer, Gabe of Gabriel the angel fame, was actually brother to Castiel.

Even crazier that he knew of Dean from Castiel, which just made him cringe.  
Just how much did Castiel share with his brother? It had only been a couple hours they were together at most.

His face got hot just thinking about it. Thinking about the wink Gabe sent him, like he knew something. No way would Castiel tell anyone about any of it. No way. Not with Gabe’s teasing nature. Gabe would never let Castiel live it down if he knew, Dean could tell. He wouldn’t let Sam off the hook if it were him. 

Kept telling himself that Castiel would never talk about it as he crawled into bed. Castiel had never done that before, what he did to Dean - didn’t he say that? Said something like that. That he’d wanted to but never had…that it was like being a kid in a candy store, he’d said. Or said something like that…

Either way, he was pretty sure it was all new to Castiel. He wouldn’t just share that entire scenario with his brother. No way.

Jesus, he was feeling tense. He palmed his dick, just rubbing lightly to try and get himself relaxed enough so he could sleep. He’d kept himself shaved since that night, and ran fingers lightly over the tiny stubble. Told himself that it had just felt really good, so he’d decided to keep himself bare a bit longer.

Thing was, it wasn’t all so freakish, really. Not when he really thought on it compared to other kinks out there. Besides, everyone was entitled to their fetish, even Castiel.

God, that man. Dean still thought Castiel –Cas, Gabe had called him—pretty much danced to his own rhythm, but not in a weird way, more in a quiet, really introverted way, maybe. He didn’t really know the guy, after all, just that he had a few unusual kinks.

In a way, it made him want to learn more about the man. What he did. Accountant, he thinks Castiel had told him. Fitting, right? With the button-down starched shirt and the trench coat. Had to be either an accountant or a creeper serial killer. 

His dick was thickening now, heavy in his hand and he closed his eyes. Told himself to just relax. Castiel had that face. And those eyes. Those eyes really got to him. Shifting in the bed, he reached to the nightstand and rummaged around in the top drawer to find the lube, slick up his hand a bit, and pulled out another pack entirely.

It was the pacifier. He’d forgotten he’d tossed it in there in a fit of embarrassment. Why the hell he’d even bought the thing that day instead of throwing it out of his basket when he got to the cashier…

Now, he held it up. For babies 18 months and over. It wasn’t unlike the one he had at Castiel’s, just smaller. 

Opened the package and looked it over. Bright blue with a white button with a tiny moon and stars in the center, and a blue plastic handle type of ring. Without thinking, he plopped it into his mouth, frozen for a few long seconds at the taste of plastic that bled all over his tongue. Didn’t taste good, not even remotely. Probably supposed to have washed it first.

But he didn’t spit it out. It was small, just a little bulb between his teeth, really, but he allowed himself to suck and chew lightly.

Not gonna think about this. Nope.

He reached into the drawer and found the lube, squirted some into his palm, then worked the pacifier in his mouth as he stroked himself the rest of the way.

Felt the pacifier slip out from between his lips and tumble down onto the sheets just as the sound of Castiel’s voice calling him baby filled his head as he came down from his orgasm and drifted off to sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to you all for reading. Very much appreciated!  
> Things are moving...maybe slow, but they're getting there...or somewhere ;)  
> Next chapter won't take as long to go up.

“Unhh.” Dean opened an eye, world dark and bleary in his view. It felt early, like way too early to be awake, and he shifted to roll onto his back. Felt like he had a hangover, but knew he hadn’t been drinking. He was just tired, overly tired. Tired in that way where he knew he slept, but didn’t feel like he’d slept. 

He closed his eyes, letting himself drift and trying to ignore whatever was sticking into the back of his neck until he couldn’t. Reached and grabbed and oh. right.

His first inclination was to throw the thing across the room because, what the fuck was wrong with him, anyway? He wasn’t into this. Wasn’t even sure what _this_ was, but he wasn’t into it. At all.

Except… studied the little blue pacifier in his hand, and before another thought even crossed his mind, plopped it into this mouth, shut his eyes and drifted back to sleep.

=^..^=

The coffeehouse was animated, busy and bustling, and Dean slipped his way in to grab a seat at the counter. There was a domed glass pedestal sitting atop a tray full of what looked to be the best looking, gooiest pastries he’d seen in a long while.

The waitress –barista- whoever, came over offering a toothy smile and bright eyes. “Coffee?”

“Yeah, large house blend, thanks.”

“Hey,” she said, sending him a look as she set down an oversized mug in front of him. “I know you.”

He didn’t know what she was talking about, which must have been written on his face because she was then nodding, clarifying, “I waited on you and your friend, blue-eyed guy, last month.”

Yeah, okay. Same waitress; he was surprised she remembered him. He and Castiel hadn’t been there long. He wasn’t about to look too hard into the reason he was even getting coffee in this particular place. 

He smiled back at her. “Wow, okay. Guess I should be flattered you remember me.”

“Oh, I remember.”

With that tone, she was all but winking at him. Another time, and he might’ve taken her up on however much she was offering. Not now, though.

“I’ve waited on your friend a couple times since then, but this is the first time I’ve seen you again.”

“Yeah, been busy.”

“Uh-huh. Busy. I see.” She gave him a laugh and a smile, nodding as she opened up the top of the pastry tray and pointed. “Definitely saw you eyeing these. Which would you like?”

He laughed and pointed to the giant sticky bun covered in icing. “That one looks good.”

“Not the only thing,” she said with a smirk.

And okay, she was attractive, older than him by more than a few years, and for a long second he actually found himself considering. Sent her a grin. “Right back at ya.”

Which had her leaning forward toward him and if he didn’t have the smell of fresh brewed coffee mixed with sticky bun goodness filling in his nose, he’d swear he was sitting belly up at the local pick-up bar.

“Just so you know, I’m off at one,” she told him with a fairly blatant stare and more than open grin. “You know, ‘case you’re free.”

She’d probably be fun. Seemed to have a shit-potful of energy and that always made for a good time. Not that it mattered. Wasn’t going to happen.

“Sorry,” he said, “I’m, ah, just stopping in to grab coffee and that sugar rush and get a move on.”

She didn’t seem too put out, just gave him a long once over and smiled again as she shrugged it off. “I get it. Taken. Figures.”

He didn’t correct her, just watched as she poured him a to-go cup of fresh brew and handed him the pastry in a bag, still holding on to it when he moved to take it from her.

“You tell your friend, he’s a very lucky man.”

“My…no, we’re not. He and I aren’t together.” Never mind why it was she assumed he and Castiel were a couple after seeing them together only once. And that was just for one short coffee.

“Huh.” She seemed genuinely surprised. “I just assumed. Pity, really,” she added. “Two of you were memorable, that’s for sure. Stuff of fantasies, honey.”

That’s it. He’d had enough. “Okay, well,” he said because what else could he say to that? Grabbed his coffee and pastry and turned to leave. “Thanks.”

She was still watching him, he could sense it. Turned to give her another quick wave which she returned, adding, “I’ll tell him hello from you.”

“Yeah, don’t bother.” 

“Oh, trust me, it’s no bother.” 

He sipped at the hot coffee, barely registering the burn on his tongue as he gave her one last wave. Jesus, his heart was racing. 

**

A week and a half later and Dean hadn’t gathered up the courage to try the coffee shop again. What the hell was he doing, anyway? He didn’t know Castiel. Didn’t need to get wrapped up in whatever it was he thought meeting up with him would accomplish. Fuck knew he didn’t need that shit in his life.

Had thrown the pacifier away twice, only to dig it back up until he finally stuffed it into a sock and buried it in the back of his top dresser drawer. Less thoughts about any of that, the better.

Funny thing was, though, since that night with Castiel, he hadn’t gone out seeking any extra-curricular evening work. Not that the money wouldn’t come in handy, it would. God knew he’d need as much as he could get to send to Sam once the kid got accepted into law school.

Just, he didn’t seem to have it in him these days. The thought of psyching himself up to find someone interested enough to pay, and then having to deliver a hand job or blow job or whatever job he or she might want had him feeling more depressed than anything. 

He’d been making decent enough money at Bobby’s, but that work was never guaranteed. Seemed to come in waves. Luckily, and strangely enough, it was Castiel’s brother, Gabriel, and his car that was keeping him in regular pay for the moment.

The same car that he had half his body under now, and it was one of the most comfortable places he knew. Not that lying flat on his back under two tons of metal was the lap of luxury, but the diving into working on cars was a huge stress-reducer for him. 

The radio was blasting Metallica in the background, he was hot and sweaty, covered in oil and grease with rivulets of both mixed with his sweat trickling down his, well, everything. Life, for the moment, was dirty, but not so bad.

Until he felt the light kick to his foot.

Bobby, he assumed, and sure enough a few seconds later came the man’s gruff voice. “Climb on outta there for a minute, boy.”

He slid out from under, grabbing a cloth to wipe his face, then hands, free from grime. “Hey, lunch time already?”

Only it wasn’t lunch time. It was Gabriel. And his brother. Castiel.

Sonofabitch.

Bobby was still talking. “Told Mr. Novak –Gabe- here, that we were still waiting on a couple of parts, but that things were moving right along. He and his brother just came to take a look.”

He couldn’t look over to him, could not. Fuck all his debating these past couple of weeks as to whether or not trying to casually ‘bump’ into the man would be something he really wanted. Here Castiel was now, right fucking here. Dean could barely look at him.

Shit, this was the worst.

Focused on Gabriel and Bobby and tried really hard not to be embarrassed by the sweep of fire he could feel flaming over his entire face. He couldn’t help it happen, just had to ride it out and hope nobody really noticed that his skin had turned beet red - except the look Bobby was sending him was saying it was already pretty damned obvious to everyone.

Gabe talked about the car, Bobby talked about timelines, and Castiel just stared at him saying abso-fucking-lutely nothing, and Dean found himself just nodding along, barely registering any of the words blowing around him and wondering why it was that a hole couldn’t just open up under his feet and swallow him down.

God, he could not concentrate under that gaze. He wasn’t even sure Castiel had blinked the whole time he’d been standing there. Then again, he wouldn’t swear he hadn’t considering he couldn’t meet the man’s eyes to find out.

“Dean, hello?”

“I, uh…what?” 

Bobby was looking at him like he had two heads and Dean couldn’t blame him. So fucking distracted.

“I was saying to Gabe that we’re looking to be close to schedule, week off at the most, and you would know this if you’d bother to tune in. Idjit,” Bobby said, mumbling the last under his breath. Dean watched as the man pulled at Gabe’s arm, directing them back toward the house. “Let’s go look at that sound system you were talking about ordering.” 

Which, okay…now he was just standing there next to Castiel. Fucking great. Talk about awkward.

Thing was, he’d been thinking about this moment, this meeting up with Castiel again, and now it was happening, his stomach was in his throat.

“So,” he began, and he could hear the rambling starting up even while he tried to rein it in, “gotta say, your brother’s got good taste in cards. This one’s, ah, pretty damned nice.” Still couldn’t really meet those blue eyes, so he turned to trace a hand along the car’s hood. “Could use a new paint job. Guess that’s something he can work out with Bobby if he’s interested. Not sure it’s in the original estimate but we know a place that can…”

“I’m not interested in my brother’s car.”

The fuck? He did look at Castiel then, meeting the man’s even stare. “No? Then what are you doin’ here, exactly?”

“You ran out on me.”

And there it was. “Yeah…”

Castiel’s voice was pitched low, his tone somewhat stern which kind of threw Dean.

“You had only to say no, Dean. You didn’t have to agree. You didn’t have to just...”

“Look, I couldn’t just…it’s…” What the hell was he supposed to say here? “It…it wasn’t that easy.”

Castiel was frowning, repeating, “Not that easy.”

Dean didn’t want to do this. He definitely didn’t want to do this now, and silently hoped Bobby and Gabe would come walking back out at the same time he silently hoped they wouldn’t.

Suffice to say, he didn’t know what he wanted.

Castiel’s stare was completely unforgiving, though. God, the guy could be intense. “Not sure how any of it was ‘not that easy’.”

Which, come on. “Dude, seriously? You gotta admit it’s a little different.”

“Again, saying ‘no’ would have resolved most of the situation.”

Dean raked fingers through his hair, then tried to explain _something_. To Castiel. To himself. “Look, I went because I wanted to, I didn’t say no because I didn’t want to say no … at first.”

“At first.”

“Dude, stop repeating what I say.” It was exasperating. Castiel was exasperating and Dean was frustrated. He didn’t know what he wanted at this point.

Or, he did. But the ground wasn’t opening up to swallow him or Castiel, so what he wanted didn’t seem to matter at the moment.

“I moved too fast.”

“Yeah, kinda…butf it wasn’t that…exactly.”

Castiel was still frowning, still with a semi-perplexed look on his face. He didn’t look happy, that’s for sure.

“I said I would go slow, and got carried away. For that, Dean, I apologize.”

“Yeah, maybe, but that’s not…” Dean paused. This was going nowhere and he really, really didn’t want to have to focus on it, anyway. Not now, and not with Castiel. Or, maybe with him but definitely not now or here.

Fuck, his brain was warring with him. “Look, you don’t have to apologize.”

“True.”

“What?”

Blue eyes met his. “You’re correct in that I need not apologize, really.” Castiel took a step forward, not menacing, but there for a second Dean felt the urge to step backward. “It’s pretty clear, Dean. I hired you, you…declined abruptly. I paid you adequately for the percentage of time spent – I assume you found that payment - so really, it looks like it is you who ought to be apologizing to me for your total disregard of basic etiquette, not to mention your utter lack of respect for me, your host.”

“What?”

Castiel set a finger briefly to Dean’s shoulder, and Dean found himself just standing there under the weight of it, as though pinned to the spot.

“It means, Dean, that your running out without a word was rude, regardless of whether or not I paid you to stay. You should show better manners than that.”

He found himself nodding, just agreeing with what Castiel was saying. “Yeah, I’m …sorry. I just, I was…”

“Not comfortable.”

“Yeah. No. Or, I don’t know. Not _not_ comfortable exactly – it was weird, but, but maybe weird-interesting. Or not interesting. It was …in a way I was kinda…” His words trailed off and he didn’t know how to explain because he didn’t know how he was feeling. Exactly. 

“Enjoying it?”

“Uh. Huh. I don’t know if I’d say enjoying as much as, as … “

Castiel was staring at him. It was exasperating. The man was exasperating, looking at him as if there was a way he could penetrate Dean’s brain, and if Dean had a clue he’d know enough to get the hell away now. Right now. But, there was something about Castiel, something about this whole thing. Goddamnit.

And he was still staring at him. Castiel. Just standing there, head cocked like a dog trying to figure out what the hell it was seeing, and staring at him with those big, blue eyes. Not blinking.

“I don’t understand,” Castiel told him.

Dean met those blue eyes with a nod. “You and me, both, man.” Then shook his head because he knew, just knew, he was heading into something with this man. 

Sonofabitch.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slow burn, but they're getting where they want to be ;)  
> Tags will be added as relevant.
> 
> Many, many thanks for reading (if you are!)  
> I hope to post more frequently.

Dinner. After a few semi-strained minutes during which Dean was convinced he and Castiel pretty much just stared at one another saying not much at all – or who the hell knew what if they did speak, not like Dean could remember now - dinner was eventually agreed upon. Maybe.

It all kind of happened in a flash. Bobby and Gabe had wandered back out to look over the car, and he and Castiel hadn’t had said anything more except for Castiel to say something about dining and was he available – and Dean had answered back yes without any of it really registering as to exactly what he’d accepted except…

He was fairly sure he had dinner plans with the man on Friday.

Did he really want to venture down this path? Well, yes and no. Definitely there was something about Castiel that he was attracted to, but there was also a tiny degree of uncertainty tinging all the edges that kind of had him regretting agreeing to the invitation, although really, it was just a meal. And it was at a restaurant where there would be other patrons, so not like he was going to be wearing a bib or anything.

It was just a date. Or, wait - maybe it wasn’t.

It occurred to him that there was a chance Castiel was thinking this was a job. Maybe that’s what it was instead. Maybe he read this completely wrong, and Castiel had asked if he was available in that pay way? But then, why would he ask him to a restaurant if…

Fuck it. He’d figure it out later.

=^..^=

Monday, Sam called to let him know the news.

“Not Stanford Law?”

“No, but it’s okay, Dean. They don’t offer full scholarships, anyway, so this is even better, right?”

Yes, having Sam close enough to come home from school whenever he could would be great, but he still felt that Sam was making this decision only because of money and that made him feel like he was letting his brother down.

“Yeah, ‘course, Sammy, but look, if you really want to go to…”

“Dean, seriously. I don’t have to go to law school at Stanford to become a lawyer. This…this is perfect. I mean that. I got a decent offer, it won’t cost nearly as much and I’m happy, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Dean told him, nodding even though Sam couldn’t see him, mainly to try and convince himself that Sam accepting law school nearer to home was really what Sam wanted. He got accepted into Stanford Law, but the money was outrageous, and Stanford didn’t give the kind of scholarships that Sam was offered from a few other places.

Still… 

“Listen,” Sam was saying once Dean refocused, “I’ll be heading back in a few weeks. You got room for me there until school starts, or you want me to head to Bobby’s for now or…”

“Shit, yeah, come here. I mean, it’s not the Ritz or nothin’, you know that, but I gotta spot for you, always.” Never mind his apartment was tiny; Sam would take the bedroom and Dean would sleep on the pull-out sofa he’d bought with the idea that Sam would someday come to visit longer than a couple of days.

“Yeah, I know that, Dean. But this isn’t me just coming for the weekend. I’ll have a few months before starting, but I don’t want to crowd you out or anything.”

Dean could hear the warmth and affection in Sam’s voice, and he felt the same, and it suddenly hit him hard that, yes, Sam was coming home. Coming home to stay. Suddenly, he couldn’t stop smiling.

“You’re staying here and, besides, I know you’re looking forward to hanging out again with your stunningly handsome brother for a while. That would be me, by the way.”

“Uh, yeah, Dean. I got that.”

He couldn’t stop smiling. “And don’t you forget it.”

=^..^=

Money. He was going to need it. Yes, work was fairly steady at Bobby’s – for now, anyway – but that was never a given, and with Sam heading home and then on to start law school, scholarships aside, he was going to need more money. They were going to need. A lot more.

And that was why on Wednesday, with Bobby downtown picking up some stuff, and Dean waiting around most of the day for a part to Gabe’s car that had yet to arrive and didn’t look like it was going to any time soon, he decided to go hunt up some extracurricular money. Which meant extracurricular work of the play and pay variety.

He hadn’t ventured down that avenue since meeting Castiel - and he didn’t exactly want to look too hard into just why that was – but a few side jobs were easily the fastest way to fatten his wallet.

_The Last Call_ bar was a fair step or three up from the usual dive Dean gravitated toward, not that that was too hard. Along with its higher priced, well, everything, it also offered a nicer overall clientele for making some bank from other activities. 

He’d gone with the one jacket he owned paired with dark pants, no jeans, hoping to score more to line his pockets than just a down ‘n’dirty blow in the bathroom.

The bar was half empty, early still but you never knew, and he slid into the seat, not missing the appreciative looks from more than a few women and men scattered around. Wasn’t much more than a half a beer and shot of Jack later that he was then nodding and grinning inwardly at the feel of a hand dropping heavily on his shoulder.

Hook, line and one hundred dollar sinker.

Women almost always looked his way, and he knew he was pretty enough for the kind of man that was looking for that sort of thing. ‘Derek’ could mold himself into most anything someone was looking for if the price was right.

He turned to find himself face-to-face with the craggy, narrow visage of an older man with a thin smile and intense, piercing eyes.

“Boy, you look exactly like what I need.”

Guy was well-dressed, a bit oily in demeanor and voice, but had that air like he was sure to have a decent bankroll in his wallet. Dean smiled up at him, all teeth and charm and knowing intent, held out his hand and gee-sus, this had better be a decent pay-out of a couple hundred at least. “Derek.”

“Alastair,” the man told him, the ‘s’ riding a long slide through his teeth all the while he was giving Dean’s hand a strong squeeze. The man’s eyes raked over his face, Dean watched as they paused at his lips before meeting his eyes.

A crooked grin slid into position on the man’s very next breath, and Dean felt a slight twinge of repugnance at the feel of the guy’s thumb tracing over the back of his hand, and he pulled it away with a yank.

Alastair didn’t seem to notice. “So very, very nice to make your acquaintance, Derek.”

=^..^=

Thursday sucked all the way around.

Fucker Alastair paid him well enough, but it didn’t come without pain. Literally.

Guy apparently liked riding along the rough edge of things, and it was all Dean could now do to not wince with every move. He’d swallowed a handful of Advil in the morning, and hoped like hell the part for Gabe’s car had come in so Bobby didn’t have him hauling shit around the yard for the day.

Alastair had a strange demeanor, almost too outwardly saccharine in that slimy, condescending way where you were paid a compliment but just knew there was a wicked lining that held an unspoken barb just lying in wait. It was that smile with a twist of an arm behind your back. Or a hit to the ass that turned from kinky spanking to outright punishment.

Time and again over the course of those couple of hours, Alastair would paste on that sneer that Dean learned was his version of a smile, and then slowly suggest what he thought Dean could do with his hands and mouth, all the while making comments about it that Dean could’ve done without.

Called Dean delicious and pretty, adding blatant ‘cocksucker’ remarks about his lips that Dean was just so fucking tired of hearing over the years. Alastair also felt the need to intimate how Dean clearly wasn’t on the same plane of intelligence. Didn’t outright call him stupid, but Dean definitely got the impression that Alastair positioned himself on a pedestal pretty much above most everyone’s mental reach. 

Guy was a conundrum, not that Dean really wanted to dig any deeper to learn more about the man than those few hours already told him. Alastair had been demanding, yet not. Forceful, yet not. Bruising in his grips, but not over the line. It was all kind of weird in a way that left Dean feeling almost dirty, even though nothing out of his realm of familiarity happened. Basic hand and mouth work, really. With a few fingertip bruises tattooed over parts of him.

When all was said and done, though, even given the guy’s innate creepiness and potential for rough kink that Dean was sure was in there somewhere, Alastair mostly just wanted to see Dean down on his knees while he wrapped fingers into Dean’s hair.

And now, Dean had more than a few bruises, some sore spots on his scalp, and a wallet full of Benjamin Franklins -- and for that - to be able to put a couple hundred away for Sam - he could put up with the guy’s punishing grip and sickly-sweet demeanor for a few hours. 

For that matter, he could put up with Castiel’s wanting to baby him, too. What he wouldn’t give to have a repeat of that baby lotion massage right about now. 

=^..^=

“You smell nice,” Castiel said, so seriously pragmatic that Dean bit back a laugh.

“Okay, that’s, well…ah, you do, too.”

He was just about to blurt out, ‘eau de baby lotion’, to be funny, but took a big swig of his drink, instead. Nerves, heart racing and what the fuck, anyway, he wasn’t sixteen years old. He shouldn’t feel so wound up.

He’d met the man at the restaurant, some small, intimate Italian place Castiel had picked that looked more like a place to meet up for an illicit affair than a date. Assuming this was a date. Was this a date?

What the hell this was, he really wasn’t quite sure.

Told himself to just shut up, Dean. Castiel was perusing the wine menu, not that Dean needed any. Jack and Coke was good and known, wine usually just gave him a headache.

Castiel set the wine book down. “Would you be okay with a red?”

“Sure. Red is good.” What the hell did he know about wine. Took another gulp of whiskey to even out the edges, and ran fingers along his stubbled chin. “So, ah, what exactly are we doing here, Castiel?”

Castiel tilted the menu toward him. “Selecting wine, waiting to order food.”

It was weird, really, the way Castiel could just take in everything so literally, answering so matter-of-factly and with no visible humor, and also make Dean feel as if _he_ were the one missing the point.

Dean nodded to himself, because he was either an idiot or just as dumb as Alastair had assumed for being here. Maybe both. But, damn, if there wasn’t something about Castiel that drew him in. “Food, yeah. Got that, just… Not sure if we’re just…”

“It’s just dinner, Dean. Relax. I’m not going to ask you to do anything that would make you uncomfortable, unless you have reservations about eating in public that I should be made aware of.”

Dean laughed. “Yeah, that’s not an issue. Look, I just…I don’t know what I’m supposed to do here.”

“There’s nothing for you to do except have dinner,” Castiel said. He seemed to be relaxed enough for the both of them, yet intense at the same time. It was an interesting combination.

Thing was, was this about the baby thing? Should he apologize again or just let it go?

“Dean.”

“Yeah?”

“What’s your feeling on calamari?”

Looked up to find Castiel looking at him in a way that was hard to read. The candle’s flicker was sending dancing shadows across the man’s face, and Dean could swear there was more blue than before in his eyes, and…

And for shit’s sake what the hell was happening to him? Calamari, what?

“I don’t know,” he answered. “Is that snails?”

“Squid, actually. It’s very good. You know, you seem to have either an aversion or an affinity toward escargot. I can’t quite figure it out.”

“No, just…I don’t know. Never had ‘em.”

Castiel sat back a bit, just looking at him. Studying him, Dean figured, in the same way he was studying Castiel. Still had no real answers.

Dean drained the rest of his Jack and Coke, then waved the empty glass at the waitress who came over smiling. 

Under normal circumstances, he’d be giving her a winning smile and wide eyes and pocketing her number for an after work sweet-meat-meet. Now, however, was not the time.

“Another drink?”

Dean nodded, she smiled, and Castiel sent him a slight – was that a frown? - then went back to perusing the menu. 

“Sweetheart,” Dean called after her, “could you turn that into a double for me, thanks. and hold the Coke.”  
Gonna need it, he thought.

=^..^=


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to those of you reading (still reading)  
> So you know, this will pick up pace-wise from here on out.  
> Also, I'll be adding tags as this progresses. Keep an eye out if you're at all worried about what you may find coming up.

Drinks were good. More drinks would be even better, and if Dean didn’t feel he was already drinking more than he should in Castiel’s view - given the repeated slight frowny faces that flashed over Castiel’s face - he’d order another to go plus another to be ready and waiting.

As it was, he’d make do with the rest of the one he had followed by the wine he wasn’t loving but would drink anyway because it helped settle the weird nervousness he wasn’t used to feeling. What the hell it was with this man he couldn’t quite pinpoint, but it was definitely becoming an itch he couldn’t quite scratch.

The calamari was…interesting. A little rubbery, slightly fishy, but if he drowned it in enough sauce he could almost pretend it was mozzarella. Sort of.

He speared a ring with his fork, dunked it into marinara and pointed it toward Castiel. “So.”

“Yes, Dean?”

Castiel asked him to dinner, they’d now been sitting together for forty minutes through several drinks, rubbery fried rings of calamari (and tiny tentacle looking pieces and no way in hell was he going to touch one of those) - and a salad that wasn’t iceberg but that weird kind of lettuce Sam loved that he was now doing his best to choke down. And still not much said about anything.

This was fucked. Not like _he_ set up this ‘date’. 

Kind of hoped it was a date.

Castiel sat back, slowly swirling wine around his glass, watching him - staring, actually - and while Dean didn’t really sense this was a cat and mouse thing, it kind of felt that way at times. 

He let the calamari ring slide down his throat and followed it with a big slug of wine, then said, “Just thought we could get to whatever.” Finished with a shrug because at this point, he figured it was Castiel’s show.

Castiel nodded. “Yes. Okay. So, thank you for joining me, it’s very nice to be in your company once again.”

Lord, Dean thought, Castiel could be so awkwardly stiff.

“This, Dean, is what I was thinking. I’m assuming you are still at least somewhat interested in my proposition or you wouldn’t be here.”

Still staring at Dean and so, yeah, Dean nodded, tried not to think too hard whether that was why he was here. Wanting what Castiel was offering, or just wanting Castiel. 

Casitel nodded back. “But, given your reaction and subsequent quick departure that evening…”

“Dude, I know…”

Castiel cut him off. “Please, Dean. Let me continue.” He paused, then, “I was going to initiate no further contact, much to my regret and dismay, frankly, because as I’ve mentioned, I had this feeling there was something between…”

Castiel just trailed off with Dean wishing he’d continue that thought, but he didn’t press and then Castiel started up again. 

“Anyway, it was fairly clear to me that in my excitement that night, I rather rushed you into it all and you were clearly not finding the situation – my offer – any of it, all too tolerable. So, therefore, I was just going to leave it all alone, leave you alone, when my brother, Gabriel, spoke of the place that was rebuilding the new car he’d purchased, and then spoke of you. I knew it had to be you.”

Dean knew all of this. Was listening to it while also trying to sort out in his own head what Castiel wanted, and what it was he wanted from Castiel in return, because he also felt there was a connection between them which, he didn’t date clients. 

Yet here he was. 

“So I thought perhaps, if…if you were amenable to possibly trying again, I would propose doubling compensation to you.”

“You asked me here to offer more money.” Dean downed the rest of his drink and sat back. Tried not to feel disappointed. He’d known very well this ‘date’ might be more about Castiel’s offer than anything more. “You could’a just done that back at Bobby’s. Didn’t have to blow a wad on dinner and drinks.”

Castiel was nodding. “Yes, but I wanted to have some time to… I feel maybe, maybe if we were to become a bit more acquainted, become a bit familiar with one another. We would both feel more comfortable sliding into our roles.”

“Roles.”

“Yes, of Daddy and...”

Yeah, Castiel didn’t say it and really didn’t have to. Not like Dean didn’t know. Not like he wasn’t absolutely aware where this would all go were he to again say yes. And that was it, really. His choice. His decision.

There was a part of him that felt a definite charge, maybe, at the idea, and shit… Where was that coming from, anyway?

The next half hour, over plates of pasta and sauce, was the light ‘getting to know you’ sort of conversation that to an outside viewer might have seen as first steps taken on a first date. And maybe it was, really. Dean couldn’t really wrap his head around what this all was – he just knew there was enough attraction there to keep him wanting to follow along the path.

Castiel came from a large family – all angel named. Wasn’t close to his father. Had nothing much to say of his mother. In return, he told Castiel a little about Sam, that his mother had died when he was a small child, told him a little about their dad and his dragging both him and Sam around. Never truly settling down. 

He didn’t tell him that his mother died in a house fire. Or about his dad’s dive into depression and despair, his having to learn to care for himself and Sam as his father slowly drank himself into oblivion over the years. Didn’t tell him that he wasn’t even sure if his dad was alive now or not.

“You’ve had a hard life,” Castiel commented at one point.

It made Dean want to kick him. He hated hearing that. Even true, even that he and Sam had said that to one another, having someone else make that sort of statement, assumption, no matter how accurate, just pissed him off.

He didn’t reply. Didn’t want to…

They touched on likes and dislikes. Castiel loved fish, Dean not so much. Same with most vegetables. Music ran a wide gamut, from Castiel’s love of classical and jazz, to Dean’s penchant for 70’s classic rock.

Then at one point, as if the words had been waiting to erupt, Castiel just blurted out, “I find you very attractive.”

Which was a good thing, really, and Dean smiled, thinking the same but instead said, “Comes with the package, you know. No pun intended.” Which had him laughing, anyway.

Castiel just pressed his lips together. “Yes, I assumed,” he said, “but as I have mentioned, if you’d forgotten, that aspect of your service won’t mix with what I intend for us.”

Which, what the hell? “You just said you find me attractive.”

“I do, Dean. Very much so. But I don’t foresee involving those more intimate services of yours in any of this arena. Not as your Daddy. It wouldn’t be right.” 

And then they were done. Dinner and dessert and coffee were over, and they were suddenly just staring at one another. Dean couldn’t think of anything to say that didn’t sound like either a come-on proposition, or a whine about the potential no-sex part. He wasn’t sure he was wrapping his head around any of it yet.

“Six-thirty tomorrow night, then?”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded. “Sure. That works.” Found he’d agreed to show up at Castiel’s – at soon-to-be Daddy’s - the next night for another go at round two.

Shit pot of money, he kept reminding himself, and fuck everything, could he just get another shot of whiskey right there, right now?

He didn’t order one, Castiel walked him out instead, and suddenly Dean could feel a sudden light touch to his lower back, and a rush of warmth filled him, strangely, with that barely-there sense of proprietary placement.

Castiel stopped him when they hit the sidewalk outside, turning him and for a split second, Dean knew Castiel was going in for a kiss. How totally improbable; the whole thing felt like a scene from a stupid chick-flick.

And the weird thing was, he was just letting it happen. Stood there like he wasn’t a guy with a shitty childhood, wasn’t a hooker a few weekends out of every month. Wasn’t just waiting for this man - who pretty much just said ‘no’ to any and all sexual relations - to kiss him.

He stood there and looked at Castiel, Castiel staring back at him like Dean mattered.

And then Dean was face to face with him, Castiel’s hands gently framing his face. Dean’s eyes closed on instinct as Castiel leaned forward, and then flashed wide open when lips press lightly to his forehead.

To his forehead. So very not the sort of kiss he wanted.

“Sweet dreams, Dean,” Castiel told him, then handed him an envelope. “For your time tonight,” he added as he then turned to give the valet his ticket.

Dean held the thing loosely in his hand, suddenly finding his stomach bottoming out.

While this was not unexpected, this was not what he was expecting. 

**

So not a date then, not even remotely - so fuck it.

He and Castiel were now pretty much back to exactly where they were a month ago after Castiel approached him that first time saying he thought they shared some sort of ‘connection’.

Some connection. What a fucking idiot he was. Like Castiel would actually want to just be with someone like him. No, the man had already told him what he wanted from him the first time they met. He was an idiot to start to want anything more than what ‘Derek’ offered, especially with a ‘client’, even if there was no future of sex involved. 

Glanced at the envelope of money. It was a good amount of cash for just sitting around eating dinner and drinking.

The baby thing, all over again. While it would pay him very well, which would go a long way toward what Sam would be needing, there was just something not sitting well with him. Castiel paying him shouldn’t be making him feel this way. Shouldn’t be making him feel like the whore he was.

Like someone who would do anything for money.

He stood there watching Castiel send a wave as he slipped into his car after the valet brought it up, then jogged off to his own Baby, gunned her, cranked up some old Motorhead and hauled ass all the way home. Home, his tiny one bedroom place that he’d been so proud to finally have.

Shoved the envelope of cash into his dresser drawer, then stripped down to get in the shower.

Hot water was hot, one of the best attractions of his tiny rental. There always seemed to be an ample supply of hot water, plus pretty amazing water pressure. He let it beat down on the back of his neck, arms braced on the tile and just stood there, rehashing everything he could remember from his first meeting with Castiel forward.

He could do this, shut down the attraction he felt for Castiel and just let the thing play out as the man wanted.

He got people had kinks. Had things they craved. Never one to have a problem with any of that; god knew in his second line of work he’d seen quite a few things. Had a ‘john’ or two ask him to call them Daddy. 

Never to this extent, though, he thought. Not an actual role of a baby, and could he do this? Maybe…maybe the secret wasn’t to go in all too seriously. Maybe if he let himself relax and have fun with this, it might actually be more enjoyable.

Definitely had to stop thinking on it as weird or he’d never make it through this second attempt. Yeah, he told himself as he lathered up his hair, just relax and try to get into it this time. And stop thinking of all the sex he and Castiel wouldn’t be having.

He rinsed under the steamy shower stream, then reached down to take his dick in hand and yeah. He would do that. He would shave himself bare again. After that first time, after Castiel’s request, he’d kept the whole area pretty tight, anyway. Just a long stubble, really, but now, maybe showing up there already shorn would help him feel the role. Maybe showing up already bare would show Castiel he was back in good faith. Was making an effort.

He shaved, nicking himself and son-of-a-bitch that hurt, then dried off and wrapped the towel around his waist as he brushed his teeth to get ready for bed.

It would be okay. He would be okay. It didn’t have to be weird if he didn’t think of it that way.

Debated going out for a drink after leaving the restaurant, but somehow the thought of meeting up with anyone, not for money but just for fun, didn’t appeal.

He turned the T.V. on low just for background noise because even after living alone for this time, complete silence made him feel even more lonely. The light of T.V. cast blue light around the room, and he didn’t bother adding any other lamp light to it. Sat on the bed, trying not to think of Castiel and thought of him anyway.

Whatever it was drawing him toward the man was still there. Yes, Castiel was a very good looking guy. But there was something more, something Dean still couldn’t quite pinpoint, just knew he wanted to be connected to it. have a piece of it. Or all of it.

And the shit of that was Castiel wasn’t looking at him the same way at all. Figured the one person he held a deep attraction for wasn’t interested. 

God. What was he doing? He wanted to get fucked by the guy who only wanted to be his daddy.

He shifted up on the bed, head on the pillow and relaxed. Closed his eyes while letting his hand trace over his nipples, fingers lightly pinching. Castiel had such a great voice, Dean could’ve listened to him talk all evening. His hands then slid down to the towel and he pulled it open, then suddenly lifted his ass and shifted the thing to sit between his legs. Pulled up the front and god, yeah, there was that squeeze of his dick and balls all at the same time.

Castiel had put him in a cloth diaper, and he remembered the same feeling that night, his genitals wrapped up snugly and this so wasn’t what Castiel wanted from him, or wanted to do to him, or even wanted Dean to even think about doing to himself, probably, at least not dressed in a makeshift diaper…but it felt too damned good to stop now.

He squeezed himself through the towel, hands shifting up and down, pace quickening, and then pulling it tighter and feeling himself growing harder and let his brain fill with the man’s blue, blue eyes.

He could see him now, pictured Castiel over him, leaning over him and licking those full lips and pressing hands over his wrapped up dick, his own fingers sliding inside the towel to wrap around himself and stroking and he could hear Castiel saying, ‘Dean’, saying his name, whispering it even as Dean was now arching off the bed because oh, fuck, yes, that was it, he was going to…that felt so…so fuckin’…good.

Pretty damn sure what he just did wasn’t the ‘sweet dreams’ idea Castiel had in mind.

Oh, yeah. Tomorrow was going to go just oh, so smoothly.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been too long, RL has been tough, but it's better now and this is continuing onward, for those who are still interested in reading.  
> Tags will be added if necessary, and yes, there is a relationship unfolding.  
> I've veered away enough from the initial prompt this was following that I've changed the notes on chapter one, just fyi.
> 
> If any of you all reading are still around, hope you enjoy. I plan on updating at least once a week (fingers crossed). Many thanks to those that asked for more. Hugely appreciated.

**

Okay, so smooth was maybe the last word Dean would use if asked. Nothing about this was smooth. Awkward, maybe. Definitely. Hugely, so thank god no one would actually ask.

His brain kept reminding him he was a paid player in all of this which - money. Even with Sam’s scholarship and loans, even with Sam going to law school in-state, they would still need into the tens of thousands when it was all said and done, and that was more money than Dean could even think on.

So yeah, his head was telling him just do it, never mind the humiliation factor. Just do it for the money.

Which would be great, thinking of it just as a paid job, except…the whole Castiel thing. He was attracted to him. Like, major attraction. It might be a problem. Big problem.

Jerking off to it all wasn’t helping, either. He needed to get his mind out of the Castiel cloud that was pulling at him and focus, instead, on the fact that Sammy was arriving in a week or so. 

He spent most of the day moving shit out of his bedroom so Sam could move his shit in when he arrived, not that either of them have a ton of it, but still. If Sam was coming to stay for a while, then Dean would let him have the bedroom and dresser; he could shove his limited amount of stuff in the tiny hall closet. Anything to get Sam to stick around for a while. To stay. That was the plan.

So yeah. Castiel was willing to pay a lot, so Dean would be willing to let him, no matter what Castiel wanted to do to him. He just needed to get his head into the job. That was what it was, just a job.

He parked the car, locked up and told his brain to calm down and focus on looking around instead of dwelling on just how it was he’d not be getting off on Castiel touching his dick as he put him in a diaper.

Goddamn the money in the neighborhood, anyway. High-rises with million-dollar price tags. What he could do with just a fraction of that kind of money.

“Well, well, well. Look who we have here. Wandering just a bit outside your pay-grade, don’t you think?”

What? 

A man suddenly had a light hold around his arm, fingers burning straight through his jacket to his skin before the hand dropped and he whipped around to find…

“Alistair.” 

“Working a more upscale neighborhood now, are we, Derek?” Alistair reached again and brushed a finger down Dean’s face. It was all he could do not to flinch away. 

“Could ask you the same,” he replied, not that it was exactly true. He didn’t really know anything about the man except that he liked it on the roughish side, and that he paid well. Really well. There was definitely money to burn in Alistair’s background.

Then Alistair smiled that sneer-like grin. “Boy, you don’t know that I don’t live right here. For all you know, I could own the penthouse floor of any of these. The entire building, even.”

Which was true, and for shit’s sake, how was it possible this man lived here? Right _here_.

“You, though,” Alistair said and Dean could feel the man’s eyes raking over him, “We both know you don’t belong here.” That finger was back, tracking a firm path down Dean’s shirt from collar to hem.

He wanted to turn away but held his own instead, finally taking a minute step backward as Alistair’s finger dropped away. “I have friends here.”

Alistair laughed. “Friends. That what we’re called now?” He stepped forward and wrapped a hand around the back of Dean’s neck, closing the distance as his voice dropped low. “I’m still your friend, aren’t I, Derek? Special friend? Not sure how I feel about sharing you with the neighbors.”

Their gaze locked but Dean refused to back down. Thing was, he was pretty sure Alistair got off on the whole intimidation thing. After that night with him, he knew the guy definitely liked to play along the edge. Power struggle sort of thing.

Alistair then suddenly let go, helping Dean steady he was rocked a bit by the release.

“I’d like to spend some time with you again, Derek. So when can I do that, hmm?” Alistair’s voice dropped into that odd whispering hiss. “Tonight, perhaps? I’ve missed you.”

”No, I’m…”

“Not available? Ah, yes. Of course, you’re on your way to be with your _friend_. You mentioned that. How silly of me to forget.” Alistair again reached to brush the back of his fingers down Dean’s face. “You’re just so distracting, you know. That face.” Took his wallet out, reached in and suddenly Dean’s standing there with a fistful of money.

“What…” but Alistair’s hand dropped around his, closing both their fingers around the bills.

“Consider this a reservation.” That grin again. “You know, Derek. For later.” He again cupped his hand to Dean’s face, thumb stroking down his cheek. “Don’t worry, I’ll find you and we’ll have ourselves a night. Soon, Derek. Very soon.” He then turned with a laugh and walked off.

For a long moment, Dean just stood there. What the hell was that? He opened his fist to find three fifties. 

Still, more money to the account. Between trying to maintain his little place on the occasional work at Bobby’s, which didn’t pay the greatest but he did love that job, and now having Sam coming to live, his occasional forays into, well, this sort of work were definitely helping. 

Just, why couldn’t he find someone who was into normal play and pay? 

**

“Hello, Dean.”

Castiel met him at the door – well, the elevator. Dean wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to the thing dropping him right into the apartment.

“Your door dude looks at me weird.” And the guy had. Smiling and friendly - a bit over-friendly. Dean couldn’t help but feel he had hooker written all over him the way the guy stared at him.

Castiel looked surprised. “Really? No, he’s - I’m sure he’s just being cordial.”

Yeah, right. “If you say so.” Because the dude actually looked at him side-eye. Something there that definitely was a wide step past just being friendly.

“You’re imagining it,” Castiel added. “Angelo is a kind man.”

“Mm.” Kind of creepy, kind man, then, Dean thought. Story of his life these days.

Castiel just stood there watching him, and there’s a part of Dean that just wanted to snap, “What!” at him, but he didnt. No need to piss off the paying client – again – just, running into Alistair had set his nerves a bit on edge.

“Dean, I…before we begin, I want to apologize.”

That was a surprise, which must have shown on his face.

“I rushed you – this – the last time we tried. It was too much for a first meeting and I, Dean, I’m sorry.”

The most polite-as-shit _john _Dean had ever encountered. “Dude,” he said, “you don’t gotta apologize to the hired…” he was going to say date. Hired baby sounded just too wrong in so many ways.__

__Castiel waved him off. “No, I think I do. I know we’ve discussed this, but wanted to reiterate how sorry I am, and how I’m hoping we’re both a bit more at ease this time around.”_ _

__Dean doesn’t want to think about it. As much as he’s finding himself attracted to Castiel, which for fuck’s sake he needs to let go because sure as shit that just wasn’t in the cards and he knew it…he just wants to get on with this so he can stop thinking about it._ _

__“Cas, seriously, it’s fine. I’m the one that ran out on you, and…”_ _

__“What did…did you just call me Cas?”_ _

__Did he? Didn’t mean to. He wasn’t even sure where that came from to blurt it out that way. “I…huh. Yeah, I guess I did. I’m sorry. I meant Castiel.” Not gonna say daddy. Not yet, anyway._ _

__Castiel was smiling softly. “I…my sister used to…she called me that very diminutive. I like the sound of it.”_ _

__The moment passed, and Dean now can’t think of calling Cas anything but, well, Cas. He removed his shoes and watched Cas hang up his jacket, just like before. This was all just like before. and then Cas was heading off toward the bedrooms, beckoning Dean to follow him._ _

__Ugh, he thought. Here the fuck we go._ _

__**_ _

__He walked into what could only be the master bedroom, Cas’ room.  
It was all warm woods and shades of grays and whites. Comfortable. Relaxing. And pretty damn huge._ _

__Cas sits on the bed and pats the space next to him. And if that doesn’t send all the wrong-ass signals to his dick._ _

__Not happening. Not happening, he repeats._ _

__“You want me to, uh, strip or something first?” because that’s what he would normally be doing, stripping down before jumping into whatever the client wanted…but here. this. with Cas, he knew what the next step was going to be and was trying hard to ignore the sudden jittery feeling filling his core._ _

__Cas shook his head. “No, I’d like…I’ll help you undress.”_ _

__Undress. Dean knew what that meant and the thought of the last time, the shit Cas had him dressed in…_ _

__“We’ll do things a bit differently this time, though. Alright? I’m going to ease into this. Level of comfort, if you will. For the both of us.”_ _

__He could just nod. Had already told himself he wasn’t going to run from this, no matter what humiliation Cas had in store, but goddamn he’d heard this before. Slow, and then had found himself in booties and…and.._ _

__He brushed away the thought, then sat on the bed – big ass bed – and Cas turned to him. They were inches apart. God, the color of the man’s eyes._ _

__If he didn’t know better, didn’t remember Cas clearly making this a business deal when they’d had dinner…he’d think there was a definite mutual attraction there. The way Cas looked at him, was still looking at him and he could feel his dick shift in his pants._ _

__“Slow, Dean. Not like before, but just…” Cas brushed the back of his hand against his temple, those fingers gentle and light enough to tickle. “Here,” Cas said, reaching for his over shirt. “Let’s get you comfortable.”_ _

__Comfortable. He was feeling anything but at that point. Then there were fingers on the buttons of his over shirt, then t-shirt, then he was stepping out of his pants as Cas slipped them down and off, boxers as well - and he’d never much been self-conscious about being naked, knew how he looked, was practiced at shucking all for a job or quick pleasurable fling and was very well versed in the pleased reactions he garnered once his skin was free and clear…_ _

__“You’re still bare.”_ _

__Well, yeah, since that first time he had kept himself mostly shorn - and why, of all things, did Cas pointing this out make him feel suddenly off kilter. “Uh, I kinda… it felt…I kinda liked the way, you know.”_ _

__Cas looked pleased. “Sweet,” he said, nodding. “You’re very sweet when you’re somewhat flustered.”_ _

__“I’m not sweet, I’m adorable,” Dean shot out before he could even think otherwise because that whole exchange was a running joke he’d had with Sam for years, and it looked like his mouth was quicker than his brain in response. “I mean…I’m, I’m not adorable. That’s just a thing I do with my brother…it’s kind of a joke-thing and oh, my god, I’ll just shut up now.”_ _

__The head tilt and smile combo that Cas had going was what was adorable, Dean thought, and what the hell was happening here?_ _

__“You are most certainly adorable, and that’s cute, actually. So, you have a brother?”_ _

__Dean wasn’t really interested in revealing anything more about his private life, bad enough he’d told Cas his real name, but he nodded anyway, heard himself reply, “Yeah. Sam. He’s…I love that kid. Helped raise him, actually.”_ _

__“Oh, so much younger brother, then.”_ _

__“Sort of. I mean, he’s not that much – we’re about four years apart.”_ _

__Cas was frowning, not a look Dean loved. It somehow made him feel he’d done or said something wrong, and god, what was it that made him blurt out his life to this man and why the hell should he care whether or not Cas was pleased?_ _

__“Four years? I assumed when you said you helped raise…”_ _

__“Well, my dad had issues being around a lot of the time, and…”_ _

__“And your mother?”_ _

__“Yeah, uh…no. She died when I was little.” Shut up, shut up, just shut up._ _

__Now he had Cas staring at him. Knew he was talking too much, no paying client wanted to hear the story of his life and goddamn, could he just stop talking?_ _

__Cas started to say something, clearly thought about it, shook his head and then looked to be studying his hands, and that was it. Dean was on the verge of asking if he should just leave._ _

__He shouldn’t even ask. He should just…just go._ _

__“There was no one else? Dean?”_ _

__“What?”_ _

__“You said you helped raise your brother, so there was someone else? Someone there with you, or…”_ _

__“No,” Dean answered, shaking his head and why were they still talking about him? “No one else. Just me ‘n Sam, mostly. My dad was there at times he was sober, few and far between and all, but mostly I did what I…” he stopped. Cas was wearing an expression Dean couldn’t decipher and his brain was now screaming at him to shut the fuck up._ _

__Cas was then reaching out, and Dean found arms suddenly wrapping around his chest and he bucked against them in surprise, reflexes kicking in and then stilling himself when those arms wrapped even tighter._ _

__“My god, Dean. You were just a child taking care of a child, weren’t you? That’s just not…”_ _

__“I…no. it wasn’t like that, I mean…I did what I had to do. It was my job.” And even he knew how that sounded out loud._ _

__Cas pulled him in tighter, and Dean almost felt smothered by it all._ _

__What the hell made him say all that? There was a hand stroking his hair, over and over and it was a slow realization that the murmuring in his ear was Cas soothing him and he, this was wrong. He shouldn’t have said anything, he shouldn’t have…_ _

__“Oh, Dean. You poor baby.”_ _

__Which was ridiculous. That was years ago, and he was fine with it. He was. He was fine with all of it._ _

__Cas pulled back, his hand cupping Dean’s face, thumb tracing lightly over his cheek. “If I ever had any doubt that you were the one, I know now.”_ _

__He slipped his hand around Dean’s, then pulled him up off the bed. “Come, baby, we’re going to have a bath.”_ _

__“A bath?” and wait, we?_ _

__Cas lead him to the bathroom and he was nodding, talking about bubbles, about how soothing it would be, wondering why he hadn’t thought of it before…_ _

__And Dean let himself be lead, feeling suddenly tired and drained and not at all sure his being there was the right thing at all._ _


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting back to the place of Dean's discomfort...hah. poor baby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI all...or anyone still around reading this...
> 
> been a really hard year, had a few family crises, but things are looking better and I'm trying to get this up and done.  
> I appreciate any and all of you that have stuck with it after such a long dry, no chapter posted, spell. That's hard, I know, and I appreciate your dedication.  
> Hopefully I can post more often until this meets the end (of Dean's and Cas's happiness)  
> So I thank all of you that have stuck around thus far. More is coming!  
> SChick.

The one thing he could say was the bath was warm. And relaxing. And tension-easing he’d admit even if Castiel was crouched right next to the tub, leaning over to him while uttering baby-talk type nonsense. Or not baby-talk, per-se, but more a running commentary of rhetorical questions like didn’t it feel good to get clean, and weren’t the bubbles fun, and how comfy did It feel to just lean back and relax and... and Dean tried. He did. Tried to relax and enjoy and not feel on the verge of collapsing in embarrassed hysteria while being weirded out by it all.

It wasn’t easy, though. The not laughing. He was tired and while not feeling all too uncomfortable, he wasn’t feeling all too comfortable, either. But the water felt good, the bubbles slippery (and he couldn’t remember when he’d last sat in a bath, much less one filled with bubbles) and somehow the tension was leaking out from him bit by bit. 

“Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Dean all but sighed and curled forward in an effort to unwind, arms over knees, head down.

“Thank you for letting me do this,” Castiel said softly and Dean turned his head to see a not so small measure of sincerity reflected in those blue eyes. 

He was going to make a joke about getting paid for it after all, but somehow swallowed it back and just nodded at Cas instead. Thing was, he did feel more comfortable and not so tensed which was pretty fucking odd given an attractive and relative stranger was currently wiping down his back with some sweet smelling soap on a sponge mitten that looked suspiciously like a bumble bee.

Keeping his dick from standing to attention wasn’t the easiest thing to do what with the slow stroking over his skin and the slippery soap and the warm water, but then again Cas -or daddy, he told himself again, but fuck if that was just _not_ going to sound off naturally- seemed to be pretty much avoiding that entire area.

So he sat there in a huge tub, surrounded by foamy bubbles and being bathed by the man he was trying really hard to not get excited by, and told himself to relax and try and enjoy it all.

“It’s… I’m …it’s nice, really.”

Which earned him a wide smile that seemed to light up Cas’s eyes even more. Dean found his own gaze roving between Cas’s eyes and mouth - the smile looked great on him - then reined himself back. 

When Cas threw in a tiny, bright yellow rubber ducky, Dean barked a laugh.

**

“Let’s get you dried off, okay, baby? Think you’re turning into a prune.”

He was a bit. Fingers and toes wrinkled and soft and he decided there were definitely some long soaks in his future in his own bathtub at home. Who knew how good that would feel.

It was weird being dried off. Not totally awful but a bit odd just standing there letting someone else towel him dry with a very fluffy white bath towel that had a…

“Is that a hood?”

Cas nodded, small grin shining as he showed it off. “Dinosaur.”

And sure enough, next thing Dean found was a stegosaurus-like hoodie towel draped over his head and down around his body. Jee-zus.

“You look adorable, you know.”

He wanted to laugh. Yes he did, wanted to blurt out just how ridiculous this all was, how stupid he felt, how absurd this whole situation and who the hell paid someone to be their baby...but hey, better part of acceptance was to just shut up and give the man a soft smile back. So he did.

“Come on,” Cas said, hand at Dean’s back with a small push, “back to the bed.” 

Which was where Dean’s stomach kind of dropped as he sat down and saw the diaper lying there and thing of powder and. Yeah, been here, done this...not exactly looking forward to it again. Sort of.

Cas dropped down to a squat in front of him, hands on his knees and Dean just focused on the man’s thumb tracing his skin over and over. “Just let me take care of you, okay? That’s all I want.”

Funny Cas would act like he wasn’t paying him a shit-ton for the night to do just that. Take care of him in his own way. Funny that the man was even kind of asking permission although given how he’d run out the last time, Dean guessed it made sense.

Besides, he was more worried about how he was going to manage his dick not standing at attention while Cas was handling him during the whole process.

With a sigh, he let himself be pushed to lying flat and stared quietly up at the ceiling while Cas began doing what he was doing. With commentary.

He laughed lightly when fingers tickled lightly down his sides. Shivered when that same light touch rubbed powder into the skin around his, geez, dick and balls.

“Goddamn,” he all but groaned out when Cas’ thumbs traced along the inside of his thighs.

“You like that.” 

Fuck, yes, he liked that. Who wouldn’t like that, with or without the diaper, hands on his dick and under his balls and smoothing between his…

“I love that scent, you know. Baby powder.”

Dean closed his eyes and willed his rising dick down, but damn if Cas wasn’t making that impossible.

“You seem to like it, too, don’t you?”

The fuck? Opened eyes to find Cas hovering over him, hands braced against his hips and Dean didn’t know what to say. Just nodded and was sure the expression on his face was flat out full of longing and want and hoping Cas was thinking along the same route to sex that he was…

But Cas was fixing the diaper around him, pushing down on his half-masted dick to pull the front up and hide everything away it was all Dean could do not to groan loudly from all the handling. Hell yes, he liked it. Hell no, he didn’t like it.

Talk about a two way street.

A hand patted over the front of his now covered crotch, Cas then adding, “all done,” before walking off to do god knew what.

All Dean wanted to do was give himself a good rub. Even reached to touch himself and stopped when fingers met the crinkly feel of a disposable diaper, and oh. How every unsexy.

“Are you cold?”

He was about to say he was a bit, but then found himself draped in a shirt that Cas pulled down and snapped together under his crotch. There were little yellow bugs on it.

“Bees, actually. I have a thing for bees,” Cas explained although Dean didn’t remember asking and besides, he remembered from the first time he went through this. The bees. “And I have to say, Dean, you look…”

Like an idiot, Dean thought…and all of this was very deja-vu, really.

“So cute. And sweet,” Cas was still commenting. “I thought maybe you would be more comfortable in a simpler attire than what we did last time. Let you get yourself acclimated, so I hope this is comfy.”

Dean was sure his mouth was just hanging open. He shut it and nodded. Comfy, yeah. Sure.

Cas was smiling. “Good. That’s good. I’m so glad.” His hand was rubbing along Dean’s leg, up and down, over and over. Dean was sure it was a sign of nerves, sure Cas didn’t even realize he was doing it. “Hey, I’m going to grab something, be right back, okay, baby?”

Again, Dean nodded, adding a soft, “Sure,” as he watched Cas slip out of the room. God, don’t be gone a long time like last time, he thought, really not wanting to be alone with nothing to focus on but all of…this.

But Cas returned quickly and Dean’s stomach dropped. He was holding a bottle. A fucking huge baby bottle that looked about the right size for him and what the hell that he was going through all of this…he should get a fucking bravery and tolerance award there was no money that was worth this humiliation and he should end it all right now right this very minute.... Jee-sus.

“Thought you might be a little thirsty? Hungry, even.”

“Sure.” Because okay, okay. Calm down. Why not, right? He could do this; he could do this and not have a freak out in the middle of it all.

He braced himself for what was to come, which was Cas slipping onto the bed next to him, then pulling him over and arranging him until Dean found himself lying on pillow across Cas’s lap, staring straight up into those brilliant blue eyes.

“It’s warm,” Cas announced, holding up the bottle with its ginormous nipple. “Sweet milk; I warmed it up for you and added a little something yummy.”

It was baby blue, Dean noted as he nodded at whatever it was Cas was saying. He wasn’t really listening, instead focusing on a few white bunnies hopping in a permanent race around the outside of the bottle. There was a small drop of something white beading at the nipple. Dean couldn’t stop staring at it.

“You’re not lactose intolerant, are you? I didn’t even ask.”

“Huh?” He’d missed whatever Cas was saying.

Cas just stared at him a long moment as if studying him, then held up the bottle again. “Milk, are you okay with milk? Do you like it?”

“Sure,” he nodded slowly. “s’ fine.” This was going to be so weird. So f’ing weird.

About crossed his eyes as he watched the nipple come closer. 

“Open up, sweetie,” Cas murmured and Dean did. Opened his mouth fractionally and found it suddenly full of rubber and sweet warmth. An odd mix.

“Give it a pull,” Cas was telling him, “you’ll get it.”

He did. Sucked a bit and a flood of warmed milk filled his mouth. It wasn’t awful, was pretty good actually. He settled down a bit, one hand drifting up to take hold of the bottle but Cas pulled it away.

“No, I…I’m going to feed you. If that’s okay? I’d like to do that, if you’ll let me.”

Geez, the man could look so earnest. Dean almost rolled his eyes, stopping himself at the last minute. Suck it up, dude, he thought. Literally.

So yeah. Sucking down a bottle full of warmed milk and resting comfortably on a thick, down pillow apparently agreed with him because he could honestly say this entire event wasn’t so humiliatingly bad. Cas’s hand drifted through his hair, a light touch of a head massage that he was enjoying. Like being petted.

So, on he drank.

Something drifted softly over his chin, and he heard Cas mumble something about a bib for next time and that deep voice was telling him to just relax and sleep and in those last minutes where he was swallowing more air than milk from the bottle, he found himself getting heavier, as if his arms and legs were weighted and his eyelids were a million pounds to lift and the last thing he heard was Cas saying, “Sleep, my baby,” and so he did.

**

He awoke with a jump, startling himself to stillness and trying to clear out the fuzziness around the edges and what the hell.

A split second later, a hand landed on his neck, tracing softly down his back, pushing him to roll onto his stomach, his head onto a shoulder… and then, “You’re okay, Dean. You’re with Daddy. You’re okay.”

Cas. Right. Right. That’s where he was.

He started to push himself up but that hand again moved to spread across his butt, patting through the thickness there and gently shushing him.

“It’s middle of the night, baby. Go back to sleep. You’re okay. Everything is okay.”

Was he okay? Was everything okay? He thought about jumping up and away, of running out again, leaving this nonsense behind, but then…he _was_ comfy. And warm. And tired.

And weirdly, felt as safe lying on this man as he had in a long time. So settled his head down again, scooched up a bit closer to the warmth that was Cas and let himself drift off again.

Thinking this wasn’t so bad, after all. Not yet, anyway.


End file.
